Time to Let Go
by xCharlie-Groupiex
Summary: After something tragic happens, Claire & Charlie find something to numb the pain. Will Charlie sink back to his junkie days and bring Claire down with him? Strongly rated T for language, angst, romance, violence, drugs, and death. Review!
1. Chapter 1 Unwelcome Visit

A/N: Well, kind of angsty I guess, but nothing to get the kleenex out for or anything ;) May not be in character but I will try my best.

Features: Chalie, Claire, Desmond and Jack appearances.

Summary: After something tragic happens, Claire begs for something to numb the pain. How can Charlie refuse her.

Rating: Rated T for drugs, death, and some swearing and violence.

Dedicated to Charlie and Claire and all the troubles they've been through together, but you gotta know that they'll get through _this_.

* * *

Time To Let Go: 

"Morning, love." greeted Charlie, smiling at Claire who had just woken up.

"Hi," she smiled. "Where's Aaron?"

"He's in his cradle. I'll get him."

Charlie shuffled over to the cradle that Locke had made and gently rocked it. It swung on its wooden hinges.

"Aaron, wake up." he called softly, tickling the baby's stomach.

Not a sound was heard from Aaron. He tried again and again, but still nothing.

"Aaron? Aaron, what's wrong?!" he exclaimed, trying to get the child to stirr.

Claire stood up and came over to Charlie, panicked.

"What happened?!" she exclaimed. "What did you do?!"

"Nothing!"

"Charlie, Charlie he's not breathing! Get Jack!"

"He's not breathing?!"

"GET JACK!!!"

After a quarter hour of trying to ressuscitate Aaron, Jack, worn, sadly confirmed that the baby was indeed gone.

"I'm sorry, Claire. I don't know how this must have felt for you. I'm so sorry."

Claire wept, hot tears running down her face.

Jack turned and left, head hung low.

"Charlie, tell me this is a dream, tell me this isn't real." wailed Claire, collapsing into his arms.

"I'm sorry, Claire, I'm so sorry." sobbed Charlie, tears pooling in his large grey eyes.

"This isn't real!" shouted Claire, hysterical. "Tell me it isn't!"

"Claire," Charlie choked, "He's gone."

"No! No, no no! _Please_."

Charlie just sobbed silently into her hair, drawing comfort from her.

"I'm sorry, Charlie, I'm sorry that I was so terrible to you. Just please bring him back." she whispered, her voice hoarse from crying so hard.

"You said that once before, and at that time it was possible, but now it's not, though I wish I could."

Claire ran out of the tent, tears flying from her eyes. She didn't know where she was going, or why, she just kept on running.

Why had this happened? Why? What had they done to deserve this?

She didn't want to believe this was real, but knew it was. So she just kept on running, rough terrain caused her bare, aching feet to bleed. But still she ran.

She would run forever if that would bring Aaron back. He was so little, so defenseless.

Night fell. She kept on running.

Finally, when she felt like getting sick, she stopped, and slumped to the ground, crying out in a fit of uncontrollable wails.

Those cries would've been enough to make a dove's glassy eye glisten with tears.

I dont want him to be gone. she sobbed. He cant be

She curled herself into a ball and cried herself to sleep. Not knowing where she was.

With Charlie...

He rested his chin on his fist, tears slipping from his eyes, rolling down his neck onto his shirt, making it wet.

Hurley sat beside him in the sand. "Dude, I'm sorry about Aaron," his voice was sad, as though he were trying not to cry. "I loved that little guy."

"I should've known." muttered Charlie bitterly. "I should have checked on him earlier, but I wanted to surprise Claire. I made breakfast."

"It's not your fault dude, it's fate. I'm sorry it had to be that way."

"I hate myself. It _was _my fault, and now Claire will never forgive me."

"Claire knows that's not how it was."

Charlie squeezed his eyes shut briefly and got up, walking away along the shore of the beach.

He walked forever, to the caves, to the remains of the hatch. He stopped when he arrived someplace he rather wouldn't be, but couldn't seem to take himself away.

He walked closer to Eko's church. Or what _would _have been a church had they finished it.

And there, amongst the planks of wood, they were. Settled neatly on the ground, as if they'd been waiting for him.

The virgin Mary statues.

* * *

A/N: What? Is that a cliffhanger I see? Why yes, yes it is. 

Please review or you will never find out what happens next! I know, I'm very threatening ;)

R.I.P Aaron Littleton. Beloved son and friend. A moment of silence _please._

Hope you enjoyed it, ideas welcomed, reviews insisted :)

xox Sacha


	2. Chapter 2 Smack

A/N: Second chapter. Thanks for the reviews, thanks to CharliesHoodie for the idea ;)

Italics are flashbacks or dreams.

Time to Let Go:

Jack had pondered where Claire had gone. He didn't want her to intentionally harm herself because of the event that had happened earlier.

He paced around the medical tent, only replying in mumbles when someone talked to him.

"Dude, it's happening again." muttered Hurley anxiously, shoulders slumped.

"What are you talking about?" asked Jack.

"The curse, it's back! I thought it was gone, but it's not, it killed Aaron! _I _killed Aaron!"

"Hurley, don't be ridiculous." hissed Jack, continuing to pace.

"I'm not ridiculous! Just look around, everything on this freakin' island happened because of me! Why else do you think those numbers, _my _numbers would be everywhere?!" he yelled.

"Hurley, I've got bigger things to worry about, it's all in your mind. I can't be your psychiatrist."

"It's _not _all in my head! I'm not crazy, it's not a coincidence, they're following me! You're so obsessed with saving people it's too late for, you don't realize when people really _do _need your help, really are in danger!"

"_Don't _you talk to me that way!" shouted Jack, glaring.

"Dude, get a clue! Aaron's dead! That's on me, I take the blame for it, but _you, _even when people tell you, you ignore them! You're so power mad, want to be in control, you don't care what people say! All you care about is that it was _your _idea!"

"Hurley, you are not yourself right now. You're suffering from post-traumatic shock, now I have some drugs that-"

"Don't analyze me! I don't need your stupid depression medicines! I need you to listen!"

"Hurley, I can't deal with this right now! I just can't!" Jack exploded. And with that he stormed off.

"You need to listen to me!" shouted Hurley after him.

With Charlie...

Charlie stared cruelly at the Virgin Mary statues. They were more like demons than saints.

Was this some kind of bloody joke? Had someone intentionally set them there so he would find them?

This was all he needed. What with Aaron, and everything...someone had done this just to tempt him.

But he wasn't going to give in, no matter how much he wanted to.

No...most definitely not...

He would destroy them, that's what he'd do.

He needed to stay strong and resist temptation, for Claire. She wouldn't be able to handle Aaron's death _and _this.

Thinking of the infant brought tears to his eyes. He bit his lip to ensure that no sound came out, and cried silently. It was still so hard to believe.

He could hardly see a thing, it was so dark, could only see a glimpse of the statue's pale faces. They seemed to be jeering at him.

The moon was full, something he hadn't seen in a while.

Though he was terrible with direction, perhaps he would be able to find his way back with help from the stars and full blown moon.

He hesitantly scooped the statues into his arms, being careful not to drop any.

He wanted to destroy them, but not messily. He wanted it to be a clean break.

He stumbled away from the church, toward the ocean.

He gazed at a statue longingly, but before he could even think about keeping it, it was chucked into the dark water.

Charlie was feeling extremely proud of himself. He smiled faintly and threw the remaining statues into the water.

Hed done this before, and didnt know how theyd gotten back, all he knew was that he needed them to be gone.

He stared at the last statue in his hand. His proud smile faltered and he gazed at it intently.

How would he be able to cope with the current events without them? Without his Heroin?

_Heroin. _The word made his mouth simply water. Here, in his hand, was the solution to his pain.

Perhaps just one hit, just one. That'd be alright, wouldn't it?

Claire needn't even know about.

He wanted to, he really did. It was like a child trying to resist someone offering them sweets.

He remembered when he didn't have to care about his addiction, when it was just him and Liam against the world.

_"Oi! Charlie boy!" called Liam, catching up to his younger brother. _

_He clapped him on the back as they walked through the alley of London street, the stars faintly illuminated the dark night sky. _

_"Liam, you wanker, where've you been?" joked Charlie, smirking. _

_"I got caught up. This sexy bird wanted me to write a song about her." he said distractedly, reffering to the nightclub they'd been in earlier. _

_"Anyway, I wanted to ask you something." _

_"What's that?" _

_His tone turned serious. "You got any? I'm out, I swear next time it's on me." _

_Charlie sighed and rifled through his wallet, which he'd taken from his pants pocket. _

_He pulled out a small baggie of brown powder, it looked almost like brown sugar. _

_He pinched a small portion between his thumb and index finger and sprinkled it into Liam's waiting hand. _

_"Thanks, baby brother." and with that he snorted the powder, inhaling deeply so his nostrils were cleared. _

_Those were their biggest worries. How much Smack they had left, not wether they should quit. _

Charlie thought he deserved a little something to numb the pain. He needed it.

But he couldn't let Claire know, she'd never speak to him again.

He heard a faint buzzing sound, and turned his head.

He saw nothing, only the trees.

Once again it returned, now with a loud siren added.

No. Not now, anytime but now.

He turned his head, already knowing what he'd find.

A large billowing cloud of deep black smoke hovered a few feet behind him.

Without even thinking twice, he started to run.

The last Virgin Mary statue in his pocket.

With Claire...

_"Now Claire, I need you to lay down here." said Ethan, patting the hospital bed. _

_She waddled over and heaved herself onto it. _

_Ethan turned and rifled through the medicine cabinet. All Claire could see of him was his white labcoat. _

_He turned around with two things in hand; a large syringe and a white packet of disinfectant wipes. _

_"Are you going to put that in my tummy?" she asked dreamily. "'Cause it really, __really __hurts." _

_"I have to, Claire," he said, while ripping open the packet and swiping it over her large, exposed stomach and the needle of the syringe. "So the baby doesn't get sick. It's a vaccine to make sure he's healthy." _

_"Now, you're going to feel a slight pinch." he warned her. _

_Claire sighed and readied herself for the pain, biting her lip to keep from crying out. _

_Ethan inserted the syringe, its juices were released into her. _

_"Now, for being such a good girl, I have a surprise for you." _

_He led her by the hand into a different room. _

_"Wow," was the only thing she managed to say. She was amazed, even more so in her drugged state. _

_She rested her arm on the railing of the white crib, smiling. _

_"And look," Ethan flicked a switch at the side of the crib and music chimed out. _

_"Hey, hey Ethan, I know this song." exclaimed Claire, humming along to 'Catch a Fallen' Star'. _

_Ethan chuckled and led her to a rocking chair, where she sat. _

_"Now Claire," he thrust a bottle of prescription pills into her hands, "You need to take one of these twice daily." _

_Claire stared, confused. "Why?" she inquired. _

_"It's to be sure that you and the baby aren't allergic to the vaccine." _

_Claire nodded, and pryed open the bottle. She downed half the bottle of pills. _

_"Claire! Why did you do that?! You need to throw that up __right __now__." _

_Claire stared at him suspiciously. Why did he want her to throw up medication that he'd prescribed? _

_In her drugged state Claire's mind wasn't functioning normally at all. _

_Ethan led her to the washroom and turned around. _

_Claire did not throw up the pills. _

A/N: You're probably wondering why the pills only affected Aaron _now. _

Here's my excuse:

The vaccine that Charlie gave Claire mixed with the pills, caused Aaron to die. As Claire and Aron used the vaccine everyday, and she swallowed quite a large amount of pills, an overdose occured and Aaron went into a coma in the middle of the night, and stopped breathing a little while later. It is quite probable that they will eventually effect Claire too, but seeing as Aaron is much smaller and weaker, he was affected first.

I know, horrible excuse. Please review!

xox Sacha


	3. Chapter 3 Big Girls Don't Cry

A/N: Hope you enjoy, thanks for the reviews.

* * *

Time to Let Go: 

Panting, Charlie ran. Sweat poured down his back, icy cold. His eyes darted around his surroundings, panicked.

The crashing sounds were getting closer.

He could practically feel the dirt turn up behind him.

He didn't know which way was which. All he knew was that he had to get out of there.

His foot caught on a vine and he tripped. He felt the statue shatter in his pocket.

He thought only one thing before he hit the ground; save the Heroin.

With Claire...

She awoke with a start. She clawed at her stomach through the material of her top, expecting to feel a large bump. She gasped and pulled up her shirt slightly, seeing only her flat stomach.

Where was her baby?!

Suddenly her memory came crashing down on her. Her baby was in heaven.

It had been a dream, Ethan, the syringe, everything.

No, though it had been a dream, it _had _happened.

It was my fault, she realized. The truth jolted her heart.

No, no, she couldn't blame herself. It'd just been a very, very, _very _unfortunate mishap.

No, it was her fault.

Her stupid two-faced mind was arguing. Her conscience was saying one thing while her logic said another.

She didn't know what to believe.

She stared up, into the sky. It was dark, black midnight.

She should be getting back, the others would worry about her. She sighed, it came from her very soul.

She pushed herself up and trod across the sand. A song on her mind. A song her father had sung to her, and that she hadn't had the chance to sing to her child.

_"Catch a fallen' star and put it in your pocket, save it for a rainy day, _

_Catch a fallen' star and put it in your pocket, never let it fade away." _

Her voice cracked. It only added beauty to the song. Tears cascaded down her cheeks. She'd never cried so much before.

She felt like she'd failed. Failed being a mother, failed her job.

But it was much worse than that, as someone's life had been taken.

She just couldn't believe it was true. She wished it were all a bad dream.

Big girls don't cry.

She wished she felt numb like she had that morning. Numbness was better than pain.

The full moon illuminated the sand. To any one else it would have been considered beautiful. But she hated this island and everything about it. But she couldn't leave.

Even if rescue ever _did _come, she couldn't leave Aaron. She needed to be able to see him everyday, even if she could only talk to his grave. And he needed her.

Finally after what seemed like hours, after thinking every bitter thought she could about the island, the others, and even herself, she arrived at camp.

She didn't even bother answering the questions everyone was bombarding her with, she simply pulled the flap back and entered her tent.

Everything was as it had been earlier, there was no hint that anything had changed drastically.

She sighed sadly and slumped onto her bed. Tears were already coursing from her red rimmed eyes as she glanced at the cradle where her beloved once layed.

She went forward and kneeled before it, passing her hands over the blankets, pretending he was there. He wasn't.

She was so enraged that this had happened to her. Why her?

"Why me?!" she shrieked angrily. She picked up the cradle and threw it as forcefully as she could against the wall of her tent. Her suitcase, anything in eyesight was sent crashing around the tent, 'till finally it collapsed.

She sunk to the ground, small frame shaking with each heartbreaking sob. She ignored the eyes watching her, just cried. That was what she needed, a good long cry, someone to rub her back while she coughed and wailed.

With Charlie...

He cradled the baggie in his hands as he pushed himself up and ran like the devil was chasing him.

Maybe he was.

He scooped the broken pieces of plaster from his pocket onto the jungle floor.

It wasn't until later that he realized the 'thing' wasn't chasing him anymore.

He looked around in wonder, eyes wide. He wasn't even stoned...yet, and he was already seeing things.

Normally Charlie didn't crave it so bad; the Heroin, but after the terrible mishap that had happened earlier, he needed something to numb the pain. And it was so available. So _real. _

His eyes darted nervously around him. No one was there. No one would know.

He pulled at the elastic eagerly, fumbling with the baggie. His hand shook as he poured a pile of cinnamon powder into his hand. He'd missed this feeling. This feeling of control. He got to control how much he had and when.

He stared at the small mountain of powder in his palm. Was he really going to do this? He might become addicted again.

No, that wasn't going to happen. It was just this one time. Just until he was over Aaron's death.

Without another thought, he brought his hand to his face, sniffing the line.

It hurt so much, like getting water up the nose but on a much greater level. He could see strange shapes and colours behind his closed eyelids, which he'd shut in pleasure and pain.

He felt dreamy, he hadn't felt this way in months, three months, eight days to be exact.

He strolled through the jungle, all fear and sadness instantly disappeared.

Little did he know that all those things and much more would be waiting for him when his _high _wore off.

With Jack...

Claire was suffering from depression. With one look at her face as she returned from where ever she'd been, he could tell.

He would have to talk to her.

Hopefully she wouln't need a shrink, much like Hurley did.

* * *

A/N: So, hope you liked it, suggestions are welcome, reviews insisted on, blah blah blah... 

Yeah, well...Hesitantly shuffles away.

xox Sacha


	4. Chapter 4 Aftertaste of Heroin

Thanks for the reviews! They make me happy ;) There will be lots of angst before there's fluff, just so you know :D

I'm currently listening to Aqua :D For those of you who don't know Aqua, they are like a pop techno group, I love them! Okay...enough of that ;)

* * *

Time to Let Go: 

Without a care in the world, Charlie strolled through the jungle. Everything seemed fine now, friendly even. His brain felt like it was bouncing around in his head, making it buzz.

There was a warm rushing sensation. He enjoyed it as long as much as he could, knowing it would wear off sooner than later.

This pleasurable feeling meant so much to him. How could something so wrong feel so right?

On his way he witnessed three illusions; of his mother, that he was in a greenhouse, and that he was a giant.

He felt so strange, but in a good way. He was just scared that when the high wore off, he would be addicted again.

No, _that _wasn't his worst fear. That he would have none left, that he would have to face withdrawal again, _that _was his worst fear.

He snickered at how mixed up his mind was. Everything was funny right now.

He thought upon the black smoke monster he'd seen earlier. He chortled. His imagination was running wild.

This tropical island was probably an illusion too, he was probably back at home in the loft, bumming a hit off Liam.

He continued to stumble along the jungle. Was he there yet?

He saw the farthest row of tents on the beach.

Yes, he was.

He tripped along the shoreline. Everyone watched him, he didn't look upset at all.

He pulled off his shoes and socks, carelessly throwing them over his shoulder.

He rolled up his jeans and waded into the water, unaware that the whole camp's eyes were on him.

He walked in, deeper and deeper, finally plunging his whole body into the water, clothes and all.

The salty water burned through the cut he'd received on his knee from tripping earlier. He hissed in pain.

"Charlie!" called Hurley loudly. "What are you doing?"

Charlie snickered and did a sommersault under the water.

Everyone stared, confused. This wasn't something people normally did. Especially after an event as big as the one earlier that day had occured.

"Charlie?"

The ex-rocker thought that he'd heard Claire call his name. No, she wasn't there, no one knew where she was.

He resurfaced, the water rippled as his head cleared through. Salt stung his eyes and he gasped for breath.

Claire was standing before him, ankle deep in the water, tears in her eyes.

She was muddy and bloody, her hair was matted and knotted, but Charlie thought she'd never been more beautiful.

"Charlie? What are you doing?" she sobbed. She tried to hold it back, but it leaped forth, making a strangling noise erupt from her mouth.

"Claire?" he asked dreamily.

"...Yes?" she sat down into the shallow water, uncaring that she would be soaked.

"Where are we?"

Claire held her head in her hands. "We're on the island, Charlie. What's gotten into you? Where've you been?"

"Yeah..." he did another sommersault. "That's not what I meant."

"What?" she asked exasperatedly, confused that Charlie was acting so strange. It was probably just the confusion and desperation of Aaron's death catching up with him, but she was worried all the same.

"Where are we...in our relationship? How much do you trust me?"

She peaked from between her fingers. "More than you could imagine." she whispered.

Charlie turned serious. He crawled toward her and supported his weight on his elbows.

"Well, don't" he muttered darkly.

Three hours later...

The effects of the heroine had long since worn off, but Charlie still wasn't acting as his normal self.

He was nervous; jumping at the sound of the wind.

Claire didn't know why he was acting so suspicious, but hardly took notice of it as she was still pondering over what he'd said earlier.

What was wrong with him?

"Claire, where've you been?" asked Charlie, looking into her eyes.

"I needed some alone time." she murmured. "Sorry if I worried you."

"No need to be sorry." he kissed her forehead hesitantly. Everything between them was tense.

Claire didn't bother changing, simply collapsed onto her makeshift bed, closing her eyes in desperation.

She was out before her head hit the pillow.

Or atleast Charlie thought she was. Little did he know, Claire was great at fake sleeping.

He watched as her chest slowly rose and fell with each breath she took. Her golden, bedraggled curls were splayed across the pillow, her arm rested beneath her neck, supporting it.

Charlie wondered if she would find out. He hoped she wouldn't, that would worsen the nightmare that was their life by a great deal.

She was so beautiful. Though she was dirty and sweaty, he couldn't help but think she smelled nice. Like ocean water, or sunshine. He didn't know how to explain it, but she smelled _warm, _if that was possible.

"I love you." he whispered. He leaned down and kissed her upon the lips.

Claire could taste the bitter aftertaste of Heroine.

She was determined to find out what Charlie'd been doing, once and for all.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the short chapter, just thought this would be a good place to end it. 

Please review!

xox Sacha


	5. Chapter 5 Full Fledged Addict

A/N: Thanks for the reviews :D Suggestions welcomed.

* * *

Time to Let Go: 

The sun rose. Claire opened her eyes and stretched.

Hopefully today would be better than yesterday.

She glanced to her left and saw Charlie curled at her side.

Claire's gaze softened. He looked so sweet, so innocent while he slept.

She brushed her hand across his cheek softly, letting it linger near his face.

He whimpered in his slumber, and as Claire looked closer, she noticed the dark circles around his eyes and the beads of sweat pooled at his forehead.

What had life done to him? To her?

She wanted to cry, needed to, but found her eyes remained dry. She blinked thoroughly, but still nothing.

_Great, _she'd cried herself dry.

She sighed and heaved herself up, limping out of the tent, across the hot sand.

Not many people were up, though those who were stared at her intently.

She shuffled across the beach, though all she wanted to do was break down and cry.

She sat down in the sand, raw, blistered feet dipped into the water.

The sensation of water trickling over her ankles reminded her of when blood had been dripping from her heels.

She grasped a strand of knotted, greasy hair and twirled it and her finger absentmindedly. She felt a prick at the back of her eyes as she was reminded of Aaron, who used to always do so.

She rested her head in her hands, staring out into the sea. Nothing but waves and waves of turquoise water could she rest her equally blue orbs on.

The sun shone down, she couldn't believe people were no longer mourning. Didn't they care?

A shadow fell beside hers and she felt a presence nearby. But she didn't care.

She didn't care about anything anymore.

"Claire," Kate sat beside her, staring at her in concern. "Are you alright?"

Claire chuckled darkly. "My baby just died, Kate. How do you think I feel?" Her tone dropped to a whisper.

Kate bit her lip and nodded apologetically. "You're right, stupid question...sorry."

Claire had the feeling that Kate had something to say but was holding back. But she didn't care, didn't urge her on.

"Claire, I understand you're mourning right now, but everyone's really worried about you. You need to take care of yourself."

Claire scoffed bitterly. "Live together die alone?" she mocked, rolling her eyes.

"Claire-"

"No, Kate! No one even cares! One day, _one _day! That's how long anyone even noticed!" Claire was getting hysterical, she stood up, flailing her arms.

"Claire, that's not true. We all loved Aaron, there's just nothing we can do-"

"_No_ one cared! What about when he was ill?! No one believed me!"

Kate tried to calm Claire down, tried to hold her steady by the shoulders. Claire violently shrugged them off, shouting at the top of her voice.

"No one cared! No one except me!" a tear rolled down her cheek. She wiped the leftover sleep from the night before from her eyes.

"Claire,"

Claire sobbed, spiralling to the ground. Kate kneeled by her side, wrapping her arms around her friend.

"I'm sorry, Claire. I just want you to be better. And as that won't be possible so soon, the least you can do is take care of yourself."

Claire nodded, resting her head on the older girl's shoulder. "Thank you. And I'm sorry." she sniffled.

Kate forced a smile. "It's okay. Now let's go get you cleaned up."

With Charlie...

He was somewhat unconscious, somewhat alert. All he knew was that the comforting warmth of Claire's body pressed against his own, her hip against his thigh, his forehead pressed into the crook of her neck, was gone.

It hadn't been long, but he already missed her being around.

He opened his eyes groggily, blinking to get used to the sudden flash of light.

He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his grimy hand, shuffling out of the tent. He was exhausted, mostly from watching Claire sleep all night.

His eyes darted around the area, he spotted Claire sobbing into Kate's shoulder, her eyes red, clothes dirty. She was a mess.

Charlie felt his heart jolt at her pain. If only there were some way to relieve it.

For him there was; an exit, something to numb him, but he knew she'd never want to try his way of things.

She was too pure, too clean. He didn't want to dirty her soul.

He went toward her, wanting to hold her in his arms, comfort her, but before he could reach her, Kate pulled her away, and he remained staring, his hand outstretched, wanting to brush the hair from her face.

With Claire...

"First of all, you need to wash. Then you need to eat, you haven't had any food since yesterday morning."

Claire nodded and as Kate handed her a towel and soap, she limped through the jungle toward the small pond with the waterfall. She didn't know how Kate had found it, was just grateful.

Once she knew she was alone-Kate was standing guard a few metres away-she stripped of her clothes, throwing them over her shoulder.

She dipped her feet into the clear blue water and sunk in. It wasn't freezing, simply pleasantly cool.

The water soothed the ache in her feet, though not the ache in her heart.

She glided along the water, twirling through it. It made her hair curl from side to side.

She took a deep breath and plunged her head into the water. She swam down, her eyes opened.

She felt a faint ache in her lungs, and contemplated not going back up for air.

She didn't know where her strength came from, but continued to nonetheless swim to the bottom of the pond. She lowered herself more with each stroke of her pale arms and legs.

No one would care.

She lowered herself as deeply as she could, and stared about, under the water at something.

A man and a woman, husband and wife no doubt, hands clasped, were seated in areoplane seats. buckled in tightly. Fear was etched in their lifeless faces, mouths were open, most likely whispering their last goodbyes and I love you's.

She turned away in slight sadness and disgust.

Her lungs burned.

She would simply have to ignore them.

She pushed herself up, away from the bodies to rest in the shallower water near the shoreline of the pond. She gasped for breath, sputtering as water flew from her mouth.

She dipped the bar of soap into the crystal water and rubbed it until a series of small white bubbles appeared. She rubbed the bar down her body, taking special care as she cleaned her feet.

She washed away her sins, her sorrows, though she knew they would come back.

The water rinsed the suds off as she lowered herself into it again.

She passed the bar through the hair, cleaning it, and rinsed, massaging the soap out.

But for the time being, it felt nice to be clean.

She swam around some more, thinking. Her skin was nice and smooth now, unlike earlier when it had been greasy and filthy.

"Claire?" Kate's voice called her, coming closer but at a slow rate.

"...Yes?" she cleared her throat before answering.

"Are you ready to come out?" Kate appeared before her, smiling at her tentatively.

Only the upper part of Claire's neck and her head could be seen. She used her hands to churn the water, keeping her afloat as her feet didn't touch the bottom.

"I guess."

Kate handed her friend a towel, then grabbed her hand to pull her out.

"I brought you a new pair of clothes." she informed her, handing her a pile of folded clothing.

"I'll just wait until you're done changing." Kate said, preparing to walk off.

"There's no need for that." Claire muttered, quickly pulling on the underclothes then the capris and T-shirt.

Kate noticed that Claire didn't have any shoes. "Do you want mine?" she asked.

"What?"

"My shoes. I noticed you don't have any, do you want mine?"

Claire shook her head. "That's okay...I think I'm getting used to it."

Kate nodded. "We should get some food in you. You look famished."

In reality, Claire _was _famished. It wasn't that she was intentionally starving herself, she just hadn't gotten around to having a meal lately.

"It's not so bad." Claire said defensively.

"Claire, you're completely pale, you're thin, you need to take care of yourself."

Claire nodded, tears threatened to spill, but she blinked them away. She had cried enough for the time being.

Her thoughts were jumbled. One moment she wanted to cry, then she wished to die, then she was embarassed to show her feelings in front of one of her most trusted friends.

Kate climbed a few trees, gathering fruit, and handed them to Claire along with a packet of Dharma Initiative cookies.

They sat down on a fallen tree, deep in the jungle, and dug in. Claire ate quickly, stuffing the food into her mouth.

"Claire, it's not going to run away!" Kate laughed.

Claire smiled sheepishly. "I'm hungry." she admitted.

Kate patted her back amicably. "I know."

With Charlie...

He slouched over to Jack, who was holding his head in his hands, eyes rimmed red with exhaustion.

"Charlie," he greeted softly.

"Jack." Charlie slumped to the sand in front of the signal fire, which had been burning since the crash.

Charlie knew rescue wasn't coming; had given up long ago. It was for their sake, people like Sayid and Jack that they left it burning.

Charlie knew Claire wouldn't want to leave anymore.

And he'd go where ever she did.

"How are you?" asked the doctor, glancing up at his friend.

Charlie laughed bitterly. "Funny, everyone seems to be asking me that lately."

"Charlie, no one blames you."

Charlie was reminded of when he'd been told that before, when Claire had been abducted.

Charlie glared spitefully. "I know."

He needed to get away.

He needed a fix.

He went into the jungle, stayed between two trees, and rummaged through his pocket for his stash.

Where was it? He couldn't seem to locate it.

There it was. He smiled as he pulled the baggie out. It was reassuring, like an old friend in a scary situation.

He remembered when he wasn't into such hardcore such as 'it'.

He'd been more caught up in the music than anything else. The fame and glory meant nothing, it was only about the music.

It was Liam who was the full-fledged junkie. Though it was bad, Charlie hadn't even known the half of it. He thought it was Ectasy, Crack, maybe a hit or two Meth every now and then.

He didn't know about the alcohol, the Nicotine, the Cocaine. He especially didn't know about the Skag.

For him it was just a toke of weed every other day.

Not anymore. It was almost a shame that he hadn't learned about it sooner. It made him feel so wonderful.

Heroin was like a woman. Pleasant, giving, providing. But it was a love/hate relationship for she was also sneaky, hurtful, abusive.

But Charlie kept coming back for more. He couldn't get enough of her.

He poured a pile into his shaking hand. He always snorted it, unlike Liam who had used all ways, though mostly injection. Charlie had never tried that, for fear of getting Hepatitis B.

But now he was one. A full-fledged addict

Funny, he didn't mind putting the drug into his body, but was completely terrified of getting a disease such as that.

He snorted the line quickly, not being able to wait to get it into his system.

He heard a rustle in the bush, but dismissed it, thinking it was only his imagination.

That _was _until he heard, "What are you doing, brothah?"

* * *

A/N: There, hopefully that was long enough :D Sorry if it wasn't, can't find the word count thingy :( 

Common names for Heroin: Smack, Junk, H, Horse, Skag, Dope, etc.

For information about Heroin use, and withdrawal, Google; Heroin, or go to review!

xox Sacha


	6. Chapter 6 Tears of Acid

A/N: Thanks for the reviews :D Merry Christmas everybody, if you celebrate it. Desmond hasn't had his visions about Charlie yet, so they aren't exactly 'friends', though whose to say he doesn't have flashes about other people? Like Boone, or Shannon, etcetera?

* * *

Time to Let Go: 

_Last time: __He snorted the line quickly, not being able to wait to get it into his system._

_He heard a rustle in the bush, but dismissed it, thinking it was only his imagination._

_That was until he heard, "What are you doing, brothah?"_

Now:

Charlie scrambled about, stuffing the baggie into his pocket.

Desmond stepped forward, out of the bush. "What were you doing?" he repeated.

"N-nothing, just going to the loo." lied Charlie.

"The loo?"

"Yeah, not that it's any of your business. Now do I have your permission to leave?" sneered the Brit, walking off.

Desmond sighed and followed Charlie back to the beach. He could tell the lad had something to hide and was going to find out what.

Charlie, unknowing that he was being followed, made an excuse, and trecked away from the beach. He wanted to be alone so no one would suspect he'd been using.

Desmond stayed in the shadows, hiding from him. He couldn't get caught, he'd get an earful from Charlie if he did.

Desmond didn't know the man before him very well, as Charlie had often ignored him, not wanting to hang around a 'nutter', in his words.

But Desmond had watched Charlie, like he had every other person on the island, and had found something special in him.

There was something strange about Desmond that no one could quite pinpoint.

What it was, no one would have expected.

Desmond could see the future, had visions.

Not of what he would eat that day, or things like that, as most people would think. No, he had visions of people's deaths.

He'd seen it with Nikki, and Paulo, though he had chosen not to save them, as they had been so incredibly rude and cruel to him. That was something he had to live with every single day. That was why he drank. That was why he kept to himself, so he could be alone with his guilt.

He'd also had a vision of baby Aaron, though he _had _tried his best in that category.

He remembered the conversation he'd had the other day with Claire.

_Desmond shuffled over to Claire's tent shyly, not used to confronting people he didn't know. _

_"Eh, umm...lass," he said, staring at the sand below him. _

_Claire turned and faced him, smiling tentatively, baby Aaron in her arms. "Hi, what's your name again?" she asked. _

_Her long blonde curls were held high in a ponytail, and the green in her sweater brought out the blue twinkle in her eyes. _

_"Desmond," replied the Scotsmen nervously. _

_"Hi Desmond, was there something you needed?" _

_She set Aaron in his cradle and he gurgled happily. _

_She rummaged through her suitcase and brought out a small bottle of vaccine. _

_She pulled up her sleeve, pressing the pneumatic injector against her bare shoulder, then pressing down on the lever. _

_Air hissed from the contraption, releasing the mixture into Claire's bloodstream. _

_Desmond bit his lip nervously as she brought the pneumatic injector over to Aaron, who squirmed slightly. Her thumb rested on the lever, about to push down on it. _

_"Don't!" cried Desmond, rushing forward, knocking the syringe from her hands. _

_"What did you do that for?!" exclaimed Claire, glaring at him. _

_"It's just...it's not what you think it is." he stuttered. _

_"What are you talking about?" she hissed, her eyes narrowed. _

_"It's not..." _

_"Is there a problem here?" asked Charlie, glancing from Claire to Desmond protectively. _

_Claire shook her head slowly, as if deep in thought. "...No, no there's not." _

_"Maybe you best get going." suggested Charlie reproachfully to the man before him, wrapping his arm around Claire's waist, pulling her closer. _

_"Yeah...I guess so." Desmond mumbled under his breath, shuffling away, embarassed. _

_"Nutter," muttered Charlie behind the man's back. He turned to Claire. "You alright?" _

_"Yeah," she forced a smile, still curious about what the strange man had been talking about. _

_"What happened?" _

_"He just came up to me, and suddenly I was taking the vaccine you gave me, and he knocked it out of my hands. What a weirdo." _

_Charlie made a mental note to keep an eye on that guy, that Desmond._

_Claire smiled apologetically at her son, and pressed the injector against his arm gently. She pressed the lever, but there was no sound._

_"I don't think it worked." she commented, arching her eyebrow in confusion. _

_"Try it again," _

_She pressed the lever down again, this time it seemed to have worked properly. A hissing noise erupted._

_"There we go." she smiled at her son, who smiled back. _

_But Desmond, who'd been watching from a distance, knew that that wasn't the case, and that there was nothing he could do. _

_That mistake that the couple had made would cost someone's life._

Charlie settled himself into the roots of a tree, sighing happily, closing his eyes in pleasure. So good.

Different shapes and colours flew behind his closed lids, making him slightly dizzy.

Desmond watched intently, wondering what he was up to.

He was acting so strangely, like he had something to hide. And Desmond needed to find out what.

He needed to get through to Charlie, needed him to trust him.

He sat down beside him hesitantly. Charlie opened one eye and laughed stupidly.

"What are you doing?" asked Desmond, nudging him.

"Nothing." replied Charlie in a singsong voice.

The two sat in silence fot awhile before Charlie broke through the awkward pause.

"You know, I used to be in a band," he drawled, closing his eyes once again.

"Really, now?" inquired Desmond, though he didn't really care.

"Yeah, it was called DRIVE-DRIVEshaft." he stuttered.

"Huh,"

"An' my brother, Liam, he sang. But I wrote all the songs."

Desmond tuned out the Brit's voice, ignoring the droning on and on.

"Tell Claire..."

"What?" he was brought back to reality.

"Tell her-tell her that..."

"What, mate?"

"I l-love her. I want to see her."

Charlie opened both eyes again and smirked at the man beside him. before retching and throwing up.

Desmond sighed and patted his back. "Let it out." he murmured.

Charlie wiped his mouth on his sleeve, then leaned his head back against the tronc of the tree.

"Mate, what're you on?" persisted Desmond.

"What are you talking about?"

"You're obviously not acting normally, brother. So what are you on?"

"Nothing!" exclaimed Charlie angrily. "You can't just assume...You don't know me! You can't judge me!"

"Calm down, brother! I just want to help!"

"No one can help me!" hollered Charlie, pushing himself up, flailing his arms in panic.

"So just leave me alone, you wanker."

And with that he stalked off, every now and then staggering to the side.

Desmond sighed. It could have gone worse, right?

If only he knew how wrong he was.

With Claire...

It was nice to spend time with Kate, that way she didn't have enough time to think, to remember.

"Kate, can I ask you a question?" wondered Claire aloud.

Kate grinned. "You just did."

Claire smiled faintly. "_Really._" she urged.

"Shoot,"

"Is it a chore to be with me? I mean, I must be bumming you out."

Kate frowned in concern. "Not at all, Claire. You're my friend, and friends help each other, are there for each other. I know how you feel, you're not bumming me out."

Claire tried to smile, but tears were already cascading down her cheeks. "So many people care for me, and want to help me, but I can't be helped. Not yet. There's a heavy burden on my shoulders and an ache in my heart, Kate, and no one can relieve it."

Kate rubbed her back soothingly. "Shh, It's okay. One day that pain will go away, you just have to wait; bide your time."

Claire chukled bitterly, tears pooling in her electric blue eyes. "Are you a mother, Kate?" she bit.

Kate paled. "No." How could one person have so many different mood swings?

"Then how would you know?!" shrieked Claire, standing up, toweing over Kate.

Kate ground her teeth. Claire was her friend, she wanted to help her, but not if she was going to be rude to her. "Claire, don't take this out on me. You and I both know that this isn't my fault." she muttered.

Claire nodded, biting her lip, drawing blood. She licked her lips, red with the crimson liquid. "You're right. You're right." she spiralled to the ground, pulling her knees to her chest and rocking back and forth, whimpering softly.

No one knew. They could be sympathetic all they wanted, but they'd never _really _know until something of the sort happened to them.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed, covering her face with her hands. "I shouldn't have blamed you."

Kate tried to swallow the guilt that crept through her. It wasn't her fault, she had no reason to feel bad.

But she did.

She shook her head dismissively. "No, Claire...It's alright. _Really._"

Claire didn't answer, simply tried to mute the noises of misery escaping her.

"You want to go back?" asked Kate concernedly, her hand suspended in the air before Claire.

Claire nodded; you could see the traces of where the tears had fallen. She took her hand, collapsing into her.

Kate smoothed back her hair gently. "Let's go home, Claire. Okay, hon?"

Claire nodded, allowing Kate to pull her along, back to camp.

But the island didn't feel like home anymore, without little Aaron.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the shortness, just wanted to post this. Have fun, and please review! 

xox Sacha


	7. Chapter 7 Wonderwall

A/N: Sorry for the wait; read and review please! Enjoy!

* * *

Time to Let Go: 

Desmond remained in the clearing in the jungle, grinding his teeth in annoyance. Couldn't he do _anything_ right?

He needed to get closer to Charlie. _Then _he'd spill his secret.

"Damnit," muttered Desmond as he started to walk back to the beach.

The jungle was hot and humid; suffocating. No one ever knew what they'd find in the "magical jungle of mystery". There were the polar bears, the Others, the weird smoke monster, and the wild boar.

But Desmond wasn't afraid. And Charlie was too dazed to be, either.

Charlie was ahead by a few metres when he stopped to heave and throw up. Desmond sighed and jogged over to him, patting his back again.

"Leave me alone, wanker! I don't need your help!"

He pushed Desmond away, but Desmond clung hard.

"Ye don't seem to understand that I'm tryin' to help, brother." he said.

"I don't want your help." His voice seemed to say otherwise.

Charlie continued on, swaggering as if drunk. Desmond caught up quickly, and Charlie leaned against his shoulder, allowing him to tow him along.

"Listen, mate, I'm sorry about Aaron, but ye got to take care of yourself. Go rest. Ye need it."

"I don't want to..." he said childishly. He sounded exhausted.

"Well, you have to." said Desmond, full of authority.

"Des," he whined, pouting.

"Come on, now." Desmond pulled him forward.

They arrived at the beach in a matter of time and Desmond led the man to his tent, setting him down on the makeshift bed.

"I don't want to sleep." complained Charlie, squirming.

"'Night, Charlie."

He left but not before hearing Charlie queasily sing a few lines of a song, his voice high pitched and sickly sounding. "Because maybe, you're gonna be the one that saves me," he paused to cough. "'And after all, you're my wonderwall."

That song had significant meaning to Desmond. ' Because maybe you're going to be the one that saves me. And after all, you're my wonderwall.'

It was ironic, really. Desmond had flashes about people's deaths and here this song was talking about saving people.

He only hoped that Charlie wouldn't be next.

He walked out of the tent, leaving Charlie to think.

Charlie closed his eyes as he thought of tiny Aaron. Where was he? Was he in Heaven? In Hell? Had he suffered? Why had he died?

It was all too much. His head started to hurt with the pressure of all the questions.

No one could help him. No one. The only thing that could help him was his Heroin.

_"Hey, Honey. Why you so sad?" questioned a tall, thin woman sitting a couple seats down from him at the booth of the pub. She slid closer to him, smirking seductively. _

_"Nah, it's nothing." he muttered dismissively, not making eye contact. _

_"Honey, it's not nothin'. If it were nothin' you wouldn't be sittin' here all sad, now would ya?" she leaned against the counter. Her outfit was revealing; a lavender spagetti strap tank top and a black mini skirt, along with see through black leggings and strappy black hooker heels. Her bottle blond hair was cut short down to her ear lobes and she wore large silver hoop earrings and smutty makeup. _

_Charlie looked up for the first time since she'd spoken and took her in. She appeared to be in her late twenties, early thirties at most. Her skin was a creamy colour, like cheap foundation. _

_"Now," her eyes seemed to laugh at him as he gawked. "Tell me what's wrong." _

_Compared to her, Charlie felt like a mess. He __was__ a mess. His hair was oily and hadn't been washed in atleast eight days, his scruffy beard was unshaven and dirty and his eyes were red and bloodshot. _

_"My brother left to go to Australia and took my money to get there." _

_"Aww, honey. Now I see why you're sipping those shots so quickly." she chuckled, nodding to the row of shot glasses lining the counter. _

_"Hah," Charlie laughed humourlessly. "Funny." _

_"Lighten up, babe. You need some fun. I think I can help you there." _

_She pursed her lips and arched her eyebrow sexily. "Come back to my place," _

_"I don't know if I should." _

_"What, you're thinking I've had a little bit too much to drink and you don't want to take advantage of me?" she scoffed. _

_Charlie nodded. _

_"Well, hon, you're the one who's hammered, so it's really me who'll be taking advantage of you. And I personally don't have a problem with that." _

_Charlie smirked and she laughed, resting her hand on his knee. Charlie was always surrounded by groupies and fans, but most weren't so forward. _

_"Come on, you know you want to." _

_"This isn't some kind of con, is it?" he joked. "I don't have to pay you, do I?" _

_"No, but you could share some of that Junk you have in your pocket." she stared at him solemnly, almost accusingly. _

_Things like that always seemed to happen to Charlie. He should have realized that partying wasn't the way to deal with one's pain. _

About an hour passed and Charlie never fell asleep. He was exhausted, mentally and physically, but he had too much on his mind.

Charlie could faintly hear footsteps coming toward the tent he was in. Who was it? Desmond? Jack, come to check up on him?

Who?

Claire pushed back the flap of the tent and entered cautiously, as she'd been told by Desmond that Charlie was sleeping.

He opened his eyes and stared up at her silently.

"Hey," she said softly, stepping forward and sitting at the edge of the bed beside him.

"Hey," he responded groggily. "Where've you been?"

"I was with Kate. She brought me some new clothes and took care of me."

"I could have taken care of you." he said defensively.

"Yeah, I know." they were both whispering for no reason. Maybe because they were so used to it as they had to be silent often when Aaron would sleep.

But they didn't have to do that anymore.

"What's going on?" questioned Charlie. He was still high, but it had descended to a dull buzz. Claire was none the wiser.

He hated lying to her. He felt like he was betraying her. But he wanted to dull the pain. After all, two days ago their lives had changed drastically.

Inside of the tent it was dark, as if it were night, when in fact it was the middle of the afternoon.

Claire leaned forward and smoothed back his hair comfortingly. "Are you okay?" she asked quietly, though she knew the answer.

Tears appeared in the man's eyes, making him look more like a young boy. "No," he sobbed, inhaling sharply. He cried quietly, in hushed whimpers.

Claire was crying too. "I know you're not. I'm not either." Her body shook with each hushed wail. She collapsed into the bed, covering her face with her hands. her body pressed against Charlie's.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him. He needed her close, needed her heat. Needed her to keep his heart together. He burried his face into the crook of her neck and cried.

And that's how they stayed until there were no more tears left to cry.

A/N: Sorry for the shortness, I just wanted to post it.

Review please!

xox Sacha


	8. Chapter 8 Dear Diary

A/N: Sorry it took me so long to update; I had this whole chapter written out and then my stupid computer deleted it :S Anyway, hope you enjoy! You might want to brush up on what happened in the last chapter, because you might have forgotten what happened. 

Anyway, enjoy and please review! And I have to thank you all for the reviews; 34 reviews and only seven chapters! That's awesome!

* * *

Time to Let Go:

Normally Claire's tent was neat as a pin.

But not today. Today there was the cry of seagull's and the smell of salt in the air. Today there were two figures of two very different people lying limp, connected at the heart and the soul and the brain, pressed against each other for comfort. 

Charlie realized that Claire had fallen asleep as they had lay next to each other. It was evening now, and very dark, but the moon and starts cast a faint glow on the ghostly white sand. 

Charlie's head pounded as he realized how thirsty he was. His only sustenance the past day and a half had been Heroin.

He untangled himself from Claire's arms and quietly tip-toed out of the tent toward the tarp made container where everyone got their water. Carelessly, he scooped handfuls of water into his dirty hands and gulped it greedily. 

Shite, he was a mess. Not bothering to think twice, he waltzed toward the ocean and dived in, disgarding his clothes, and rubbing the dirt and grime from his body. He floated along, the salt cleansing his cuts and bruises, stinging his eyes. 

He ducked under the water and rubbed at his hair, resurfacing to see Jack standing in front of him, holding a bar of soap and a towel. He tossed the bar of soap in Charlie's direction, and the Brit caught it and thanked him with a nod of his head. 

Jack sat down on the sand, placing the towel beside him. "I'm glad you've decided to start taking better care of yourself, Charlie, but I didn't expect you to go skinny dipping in front of the whole camp." Jack's voice held the faintest trace of humour, and that comforted Charlie, telling him that no matter how bad things were now, he'd be alright. 

That was the 'Heroin Charlie' talking. Since he'd started using, back in the day, he had been seperated into two sides. Normal Charlie; happy go-lucky, sarcastic, protective. Normal Charlie didn't really believe that things would ever be alright again. 'Heroin Charlie' was goofy and strange. He made portraits out of macaroni, scribbled over his belongings with Sharpies and Hi-Lighters, and built sandcastles. Heroin Charlie was like a child. 

"Funny," chortled the Brit, half serious, half not. 

"I thought you'd think so. So, what are you doing out here?" questioned Jack, legs splayed across the sand, palms resting on his knees. 

"Like you said; I'm washing. What's it look like?" Water covered Charlie from the waist down, so that only his stomach, chest, neck, and head showed.

"It looks like you're performing a strip tease for the camp." 

Charlie rolled his eyes, but chuckled nonetheless. "I thought everyone would be asleep by now." 

Jack chuckled humourlessly. "It's seven o'clock." he consulted his watch. 

"Huh, so it is."

Charlie rubbed the bar of soap over his body, cleaning himself. Afterward he cleansed his hair and scruffy beard. 

When Charlie was ready to come out, Jack tossed the towel his way, and he wrapped it around his waist. 

It was a warm, fluffy towel that had been retrieved from the hatch and had never been used. Charlie felt almost guilty using it, when he knew that Claire would have loved it. 

_"What do you miss the most in the real world?" questioned Charlie, as he walked beside his pregnant friend Claire. _

_Claire glared playfully and laughed, "Just because we're on an island doesn't mean we're not in the __**real **__world." _

_"Still," persisted Charlie. "What do you miss most?" _

_"Hmm," Claire seemed to be deep in thought, "What do I miss most?"_

_"That's what I asked." Charlie's tone was matter of fact. Claire punched him in the shoulder softly, and he pretended to be hurt, holding his hand over his heart." _

_"Warm, fluffy towels. Your turn." _

_"Bannoffy pie." Charlie's mouth was practically watering._

_"You said that already!" _

_"Mmm, banoffy pie with a side of whipped cream." _

_Claire chuckled and reached for Charlie's hand tentatively. Charlie blushed and squeezed it comfortingly. _

_"Don't worry, Claire, rescue will come. We'll be able to get back to those things in a matter of days. I promise."_

Charlie tied a knot in the tail of the towel so it wouldn't fall off, and sat next to Jack, being sure to keep his legs closed. 

"Was there something you wanted?" asked Charlie, willing Jack to get to the point of his visit. 

"Yeah, actually. There's something you should know."

"And what's that?"

"Claire's depressed-"

"Of course she's depressed!" Charlie interrupted, "Her baby just died, Jack!"

"Let me finish. I think she might try to harm herself. I think you'd better give her some of these prescription pills." Jack took a bottle of prescription pills out of his pocket. They were for chronic depression. 

Charlie looked at the bottle Jack had put into his hand, and threw it into the ocean. 

"What are you doing? We need that!" 

"I'm not going to dope Claire up."

And with that Charlie left, feeling a strange satisfaction at relieving his anger and frustration. 

* * *

With Claire...

Claire slept a dreamless sleep, which was good because she didn't want to have another nightmare. It was the kind of sleep where you know you're sleeping but can't seem to be able to wake up. Her sleeping pattern went from deep sleep to the very brink of consciousness, but she never fully awoke. When she did wake it was light outside, and she was sure she hadn't slept long. It was still afternoon, wasn't it?

Wrong. She checked her diary to see that the date was actually Monday, not Sunday. Inside her journal was a little note from Charlie. At first Claire was furious that he'd gone through her things, but then she read the message and couldn't helpt but beam. The message was as following:

_You know I love you, Claire. _

It wasn't necessary that he wrote more, because those simple words brought joy to Claire's heart, which surprised her, as she thought she could never be joyous again. 

* * *

A/N: So, please review! Hope you enjoyed it!

xox Sacha


	9. Chapter 9 Hush Little Baby

A/N: Sorry for the wait, we don't have internet in the house right now, so I could only post this at my Dad's, who lives far away. Enjoy and please review! I wrote the song, by the way ;)

* * *

Time to Let Go:

Claire decided she would find Charlie to thank him for writing her that kind note. It had made her feel better, if only a little bit.

She exited her tent and asked everyone she saw where Charlie was. Everyone seemed surprised that she was actually making contact. Everyone thought she was still too shook up. No one knew where Charlie was. Strangely, she was reminded of when she had escaped from the Others' camp and had not been able to remember anything. Everyone had stared and talked behind her back. Except Charlie.

Charlie didn't know it, but he was a good man. 'The _best_ man,' thought Claire.

After twenty minutes of searching, Claire realized that she hadn't asked Desmond yet. He had been hanging around Charlie alot lately, and would surely know where he was.

Claire waited by his tent, but he never came. As she didn't wish to have to search for _him _too, she decided that there was no harm in waiting for him to arrive a little bit longer, and entered his tent.

Sitting on the ground, faint shadows cast across her face, Claire spotted a thin fold in the sand. She brushed it aside to see a photograph, turned upside down. She picked it up and blew the sand away, squinting to see it properly through the lack of light.

A beautiful blonde woman was cuddled up to Desmond. They looked so happy. Tears appeared in Claire's eyes as she thought of how the two of them would never be together again, much like the way her and Aaron would never be together again.

Suddenly there was a rustle as Desmond entered, and he jumped back in surprise. "What are ye doing here?!" he exclaimed, stunned.

Claire scrambled up, trying to hide the photograph behind her back. "I'm so sorry, I was waiting for you because I need you help."

Desmond frowned. "If I remember right, last time I tried to help you, I was yelled at and called a 'wanker'."

Claire realized with a jolt, that Desmond wasn't angry; he was hurt. She softened her voice, "I'm so sorry, Desmond; I was wrong. I'm just quite protective around my son...I mean, I _was _quite protective..."

More tears gathered in her eyes, and glittered in the darkness. Desmond sighed and placed a hand on her shoulder comfortingly. "Sorry," he whispered in apology.

Claire shook her head. "It's fine, really. I'm fine." But she didn't sound fine at all.

Desmond saw the photograph that was in her hand. He snatched it away venomously. "What're ye doing with this?!" he hissed angrily.

Claire scrambled to think of an excuse. "I'm sorry, I found it in the sand and was wondering what it was. I know I have no right to just come in to your tent, but I really needed to talk to you."

Desmond scoffed, a strange sound in the back of his throat. "What did ye need?" he asked despairingly.

"I noticed that you and Charlie have been hanging around together alot lately, and was wondering if you knew where he was."

"We haven't been together a _lot_." responded Desmond. He wanted what was best for Charlie, but he didn't want Claire to know about his stange behavior just yet.

"But do you know where he is? It would really mean alot to me if you could bring me to him."

How could Desmond say no to that angelic face? Claire's blonde hair shone like a halo, surrounding her face, her eyes were as blue as lapis lazuli, her mouth was pink and her lips were plump, as if they were filled with something sweet, and her pale, porcelain skin was smooth and creamy, but had the faint glow of a tan.

"Of course I will, sister. Come, he's this way."

After a long walk in the jungle, Desmond and Claire came upon a clearing with red flowers. There was a cluster of trees a little way off, and Desmond nodded toward it. "He's in there."

Claire nodded and headed toward it.

* * *

With Charlie...

Charlie laughed as the sky swirled different colours. Purples, oranges, pinks, and blood reds formed strange shapes, and made him guffaw. He'd taken a particularly big fix this time, and was hardly able to see straight. His vision skipped from direction to direction, and seemed strangely out of focus. His bones felt like they were made of jelly, and he swayed from side to side as he couldn't keep himself upright, and he didn't seem to be able to control his vocal chords; he couldn't control when he talked or not. Words simply tumbled out.

He heard footsteps, and a strange ringing in his ear, and looked up to see Claire standing before him.

"What are you doing?" questioned Claire, deeply confused.

"Wh-what's it look like?" Charlie laughed at his impaired speech. His tongue felt heavy; it was hard to say exactly what he meant. His mouth also felt dry, like some kind of dentist drill had sucked all the moisture out of it.

"I don't know," Claire chuckled, sitting down beside him. "Charlie, what's going on? Are you alright? You're acting very strange."

"Ha!" Charlie laughed loudly. Maybe a little _too _loudly. His face felt warm, and his forehead was sweaty. His eyes were glazed over and his pupils were huge.

Claire frowned in concern. "Charlie, are you on drugs? I know you threw them all in the ocean, but it's the only reason why you would be acting so weird..."

Charlie shook his head, and tried to look serious, but his face cracked into a grin within seconds. He scuffed the dirt with his shoe and twiddled his thumbs.

"Nah, Claire, I'm not on dr-drugs," he suckled his own tongue to gather saliva. "I'm just glad."

"Glad?" Claire seemed surprised; stung, even. "What reason do you have to be glad, Charlie? Aaron's dead. He's gone." Claire had started to sob, and fell against his chest.

"No, Claire, ya don't understand," he tried to explain, rubbing her back gently. "I'm not _happy _happy, I'm sad about...the baby. Hearbroken, actually. Sometimes I just want to yell, but I'm happy to have you here, in my life."

Claire nodded, and Charlie wiped her tears away with the back of his hand. "I understand what you mean, Charlie. I feel the same way. I just...miss him _so _much," Claire started to cry again, and the wetness of her tears made Charlie's shirt wet. But he didn't care; he just had to take care of his girl.

After Claire's tears had stopped flowing, she rested her head in Charlie's lap, her fingers tracing circles across his hand, which rested upon her hip. "I love you, Charlie," she murmured, her eyes closing. Though she had slept a long time, the day had taken alot out of both of them. So many tears; they'd made her exhausted.

"I love you too," he responded, nuzzling her hair, which smelled of watermelon. "Mmm, you smell good," he whispered in her ear, chuckling. He was still stoned, and his vision was streaming; his surroundings seemed blurry.

She giggled half-heartedly. "It's the last of the shampoo. Kate gave it to me."

Suddenly, Claire remembered why she had come to see Charlie. "By the way, thanks for writing that little note in my diary today. At first I was angry that you'd gone through my things, but then I read it, and couldn't keep from smiling."

"You're welcome," Charlie hardly remembered what she was talking about, but pretended he did anyway.

After another forty five minutes of laying there, Claire decided they should return to camp. Charlie helped Claire up, and staggered toward Desmond who had been waiting for them patiently, ready to lead them back.

Charlie stumbled ahead of them, leaving Claire and Desmond to speak privately. "Have you noticed how Charlie has been acting strange?" questioned Claire, walking beside him.

Desmond bit his lip and thought of an excuse. He didn't want Claire to know he also thought Charlie was on drugs until he was completely sure. It might ruin their relationship.

"Er, I think that maybe his behavior could have something to do with Aaron's death." The Scotsman informed her.

Claire nodded. "Of course, that's understandable. I haven't been the same since, and don't think I ever will, so of course it must be the same with Charlie. The stress and pain must be making him act crazy."

Desmond squeezed Claire's shoulder to comfort her. "He just needs time, Claire. And you do too. You'll both be okay; eventually."

Claire laughed bitterly, "I'm not so sure. I wish this were all a bad dream, that I would wake up." Tears appeared in her eyes. "Sorry," she chuckled, blinking back her tears.

"No need to be sorry; you've done nothing wrong." replied Desmond.

Claire nodded, and hurried to catch up with Charlie.

* * *

Neither Claire nor Charlie slept that night. Though they were both exhausted, they had too much on their minds for sleep.

Claire stirred gently. The darkness in her heart still lurked. The best she could do was take the pain one day at a time. Not worry about tomorrow, or next week; not concentrate on the future.

She forced herself not to look at the cradle that lay broken on its side. She hadn't bothered putting it upright since she'd thrown it across the tent, making a mess of things.

She sighed a heartfelt sigh and pushed herself up, crawling closer to where Charlie lay, eyes open, and thinking.

She curled into a ball at his side and pressed her cheek against his back. Neither of them said a word. They just lay there in comfortable silence.

Charlie's head was pounding, like it usually did after the high wore off. The rush always deprived him of sleep, making him feel as if he were hung-over. He was so tired he could barely speak, but his mind would not turn off long enough to let him drift off. He was too busy thinking.

He needed to protect Claire; protect her from the pain and sorrow that was a daily ritual to them now. And he needed to protect himself.

"Claire," his voice was raspy and dry, and came out as a wheezing whisper.

Claire didn't respond, though Charlie could tell she was listening.

"You should go to sleep. You're exhausted."

She chuckled darkly, eyes narrowing in bitterness. "It's not like I'd be able to." she scowled.

Her features softened as she took up the relaxing journey of trailing the back of her hand across Charlie's forehead, smoothing back his hair, soothing him.

"Maybe _you _should be the one going to sleep." She chuckled to herself. It was the first time she'd felt even slightly happy in days. "I just know you're going to pass out on me."

"No," Charlie murmured, already half asleep. "I'm not tired…"

Claire's maternal instincts kicked in as she treated him as she would have treated her child. "Yes you are." She whispered in his ear. Charlie took comfort from the sound of her voice.

It was almost painful to see Charlie like this, so sad, so little. The famous British rock God was no longer a star. Now he was just like any other person, grieving.

If he looked so bad, how must _she _look? Much worse, probably.

Charlie wasn't Charlie anymore. He was just a living bag of skin and bones, with dark bags under his eyes and a pale, sickly looking face.

He was a zombie.

_Raise your wings and get ready to fall, _

_Because life's like that. _

_One day you might hear your destiny call, _

_But don't expect anything other than disappointment. _

_Our lives are complicated things_,

_You never know what's right and what is sin. _

_Sometimes you want to rip off your own skin _

_To disguise yourself, so you won't have to deal._

_Do you remember the good old days? _

_When we use to lie beneath the stars and pray?_

_I have much more to say; _

_Do you remember? _

_I know you're sad; I'm sad too,_

_Just please know that I love you, _

_And everything will be alright._

_Do you remember those good old days? _

_When we use to lie beneath the stars and pray?_

_I have much more to say; _

_Do you remember? _

_Do you remember the good old days? _

_When we use to lie beneath the stars and pray? _

_I have much more to say; _

_But I'll keep it to myself, _

_Because it might make things worse._

In moments Charlie was asleep.

* * *

A/N: So, how did you all like that? Please let me know! Thanks!

xox Sacha


	10. Chapter 10 Just Cry

A/N: Thanks for the reviews, they're awesome! I love you guys all to death. Enjoy!

Flashbacks and dreams are in _Italics_.

* * *

Time to Let Go:

Claire could sense that Charlie was leaving the tent the next morning. She extended her hand and blinked the sleep from her eyes. "Come here," she whispered.

Charlie came torward her and lay on the bed, on top of the covers. "Yes, darling?"

"I don't want you to leave," she groaned, stretching while she said it.

Charlie laughed softly. "It's already eleven o'clock, dear. But I guess I can stay if you really want me to." the wicked grin on his face simply hinted at what he knew others would think they were doing.

Claire giggled, and pulled him down on top of her, kissing him squarely on the mouth. She dipped her tongue between his lips and took control. Charlie and Claire had never kissed like this. When they kissed it was always apprehensive, shy, and neither of them knew when to stop. But not this time. In a sudden movement, she rolled on top of him and grasped his wrists tightly in her hands.

"I've got you now!" she exclaimed smugly, pulling away from him. "Now you are at my mercy."

Charlie rolled his eyes, knowing he didn't mind being in this position with Claire in the least, but played along. "Oh mighty Claire! I am your slave!"

Claire giggled and replied, "That you are. Now, my first command is that you give me a foot rub." she teased.

Charlie smiled widely and slid off the make-shift bed, grasping a foot in his hands. He glanced down and saw the angry red cuts across the smooth skin of her foot.

"Claire, what happened?" he asked with concern. Jack had said that she might try to harm herself, but this sure was an odd place to do so...

Claire rolled her eyes but smiled all the same. She found it adorable when Charlie was protective over her, just like she'd been protective over Aaron.

Her heart began to pound at the memory and she appeared lost in thought, a few tears cascading down her cheeks.

"Claire?" inquired Charlie, his worry over the top. "What happened?"

Brushing the tears away, Claire replied distractedly, "Oh, it's nothing. I've just gotten into the habit of walking without shoes on in the jungle, and my feet get cut each time."

Instead of massaging her feet, Charlie told Claire he'd be right back, and slipped out of the tent. He walked toward Jack's tent, and called to him.

Jack stood up and exited the tent. He was still slightly mad at Charlie for throwing the pills into the ocean, but answered him nonetheless.

"What do you need, Charlie?"

"I need some ointment, or Polysporin, if you've got any."

"What for?" asked Jack.

"Claire's hurt, I just don't want her to get an infection. We _are _on a tropical island after all..."

Jack sighed, but agreed and got the Polysporin.

"How is she hurt? Is it serious?" he demanded.

"It's not life threatening in the least, but like I said, I don't want her to get an infection."

Jack nodded and handed the small tube over, as Charlie returned to Claire's tent.

"Here you go," he said as he entered. He kneeled before her once again and gently applied the ointment.

Claire smiled half-heartedly. "Thanks Charlie, you're always taking care of me."

"No worries," he responded. "I like taking care of you, Claire."

Charlie's eyes started to tear up, so he looked down, trying to hide the fact that he was crying.

He bandaged Claire's injured feet and wiped his hands on a towel strewn across the ground.

"Charlie?" Claire was crying too, and she extended her arms out to him. "Come here, darling."

Charlie nestled himself comfortably in Claire's arms, his head resting in her lap. "Just cry," whispered Claire soothingly. She rubbed his chest in circles to calm the heartbreaking sobs that were ripping themselves from his throat. "It's okay, just cry. Just cry,"

Charlie cried for a long time. It did him good. He felt safe in Claire's arms, as if nothing in the world could hurt him.

Claire never tired of his crying. She murmured loving words in his ear and tapped out the pulse in his neck. "I love you, Charlie. You're a good man. I love you."

Slowly, Charlie's tears stopped flowing. "Are you all right now?" Claire gently wiped his tears away.

That's the way their relationship was; Charlie took care of Claire, and Claire took care of Charlie.

Charlie chortled sarcastically. "I think so. Thanks, Claire. Sorry I'm such a bother."

Claire stared at him deep in the eyes, scowling. "You are _not _a bother, Charlie. Don't ever think that."

Charlie smiled tentatively. "Thanks," he reached forward and kissed her cheek.

Claire decided that she wanted to go for a walk. It had only been four days since Aaron's death, and she was still completely broken up over it, but she knew the fresh air would do them good.

Hand in hand, Charlie and Claire walked down the beach. People stared, but neither of them minded.

Sawyer hesitantly came up behind them and tapped Claire on the shoulder. She turned to see his brow creased with sorrow.

"Hi, Sawyer. Can I help you?" her tone was flat. Besides Kate, Hurley, and Jack, hardly anyone had spoken to the pair, much less even glanced their way.

"No, umm...I just wanted to let you know that I'm sorry about what happened to Aaron. We all loved that little guy."

Claire nodded, forcing a small smile. "Thanks for trying, Sawyer."

Sawyer nodded and extended his arms to give her an awkward hug, and Charlie a comforting pat on the back.

"Yeah, well...take care." Sawyer shuffled away.

Charlie and Claire continued walking along, their fingers entertwined.

They continued walking, eventually ending up in the part of the beach were the graves were kept.

At the very end was the littlest grave of all.

_"Claire, I'm sorry, but we have to start the ceremony now. Are you ready?" asked Jack from outside of her tent. _

_'Yesterday my life changed completely. My baby is gone. What do you think?' thought Claire, but she kept it to herself. Instead, she said, "Can I have just five more minutes?" her voice was full of pain._

_"Yeah, sure. Just come out when you're ready, okay?" _

_Claire got up from the bed and quickly ran her fingers through her knotted blonde tresses, splashed some water on her face to make it appear she hadn't been crying, and smoothed the wrinkles in her shirt. _

_Timidly stepping out of her tent, her cut feet burning from the hot sand, she slowly walked toward the graveyard, where everyone stood. _

_All heads turned her way, and she could tell what everyone was thinking. She could see the pity in their eyes._

_But she didn't want pity. She wanted everything to go back to the way they'd been before. _

_Standing before the large rectangle shaped hole in the sand, Charlie by her side, she opened her mouth to speak._

_No words came. All she knew was that her heart hurt, and she wanted to die._

_But that wasn't an option. Not with Jack watching her so closely, just dying to play hero again._

_Everyone stared, waiting for her to say something, and she finally found her voice._

_"Aaron, was a gift from heaven." her throat felt like it was coated with sand, impossibly dry, limiting her sense of speech._

_"He..." she sighed a heartfelt sigh and restarted her sentence. "Nothing could have measured up to how much I loved Aaron. How much I still love him."_

_"And now he's...gone," her voice cracked and tears pooled in her eyes, illuminating their pale blue colour. "And I don't know what to think. Horrible isn't a bad enough word to describe how miserable and painful my life is going to be now, without him..." her voice broke again, and she collapsed into a fit of uncontrollable sobs. _

_Charlie reached out and pulled her against his chest, letting her cry into his shirt. "Aaron was a ray of sunshine; he was the definition of love. He was my family. I won't ever forget him and will always grieve for him." _

_Face bright red, Charlie wiped briskly at the corners of his eyes. "I love him." _

_A shushed amen was whispered by each survivor. _

_And with that, he bent down, grasping a handful of sand in the progress, and gently sprinkled it over the blanket covered bundle that was Aaron._

_'Lord, bless Aaron. Take care of him. And take care of Claire,' he prayed, moving aside so that Claire could sprinkle some sand over the grave, tears streaming down her face._

_The survivors lined up to do the same, and soon the funeral had ended. _

_But the grief that surrounded Charlie and Claire was just beginning. _

* * *

Claire kneeled before her son's grave and blew a kiss at it. "Mommy loves you, Aaron. No matter what, mommy loves you."

* * *

A/N: Sorry for ending it like that, but I didn't have much else to write. I'll update soon, I promise.

Anyway, please review! Hopefully it wasn't too confusing.

xox Sacha


	11. Chapter 11 I Know

**A/N: I'm so sorry I've taken so long! Well, anyway, enjoy and please review. Sorry again! And thanks for the reviews I received.**

**Dreams and flashbacks are in Italics. You'll know the difference**.

* * *

Time to Let Go:

_Charlie watched Claire carefully from his position behind a tree. She was seated on the jungle floor, hugging her knees to her chest, her swollen belly hanging out of her shirt._

_Laughing. _

_What in the world was she doing, just going out into the jungle by herself?_

_The pitch of her tone went up a notch, and now she was laughing so madly Charlie deemed it must be hard for her to breathe._

_"Claire?" He walked toward her hesitantly, unsure if she would be angry that he had followed her._

_Claire turned her head, and Charlie could see that there were tears rolling down her cheeks. _

_"Claire!" Charlie ran to her, kneeling by her side as she continued to laugh manically. "What's wrong? Why are you acting so strange?" _

_Claire shook her head, swallowing hard. "It's just occured to me, Charlie. I'm going to be a mother. A __**mother**__. I can barely take care of myself," She hiccoughed. "How on earth am I supposed to raise a child? And on an island no less!" _

_Charlie pulled the pregnant girl forward so that she was pressed against his chest. "It will all be okay, Claire. You'll be the best mother in the world."_

_"N-no I won't," Claire sobbed. "I was going to give him away, Charlie. What kind of a mother gives away her child?" _

_Charlie tightened his arms around Claire, providing a barrier of security around the girl. "That doesn't matter, Claire. What matters is that you __didn't__give him up. You could have, but you didn't. You did the right thing."_

_She peered up at him through her lashes, a few strands of yellow hair tumbling into her electric blue eyes, which at the moment were filled with tears. "That's not true," She sobbed. And then she turned her head and retched, throwing up about a foot from where the both of them sat. Charlie rubbed her back in slow circles and held her hair back, earning a watery smile when Claire finished, her throat raw and her nose burning terribly. _

_"Thanks," She managed to croak, whiping some spittle from her lips. _

_"Claire, I know you think that the crash is the only reason you didn't give your child away, but I know that's not true. I know you, Claire. I know that you wouldn't have gone through with it." _

_Claire wiped at her eyes. "I don't think that you know me as well as you think you do," She murmured. _

_Charlie grasped her chin in his hand gently, yet firmly enough that she couldn't look away. His stormy eyes bore into her light ones. "I know more about you than I know about myself, Claire. I know that when you're excited or nervous you bite your lip, I know that you believe in astrology, but you don't live your life from it, I know that you like to tell stories to yourself when you're on one of your walks and you think that no one can hear you. I know that you're a good person, and that you'll be a great mother. Do you want to know why I know so much about you, Claire?" _

_Claire nodded tentatively. "Tell me."_

_"Because I care about you. Alot of people care about you. And I don't know what I'd do if you or the baby were ever hurt, so please don't come out into the jungle alone again."_

_Charlie released his hold upon her grudgingly, wanting nothing more than to kiss her senseless. But he controlled himself. He stood up and helped her to her feet as well, smiling widely when she leaned in and placed her lips against the rough stubble of his cheek. Pulling away, they both blushed, acting like school children in Charlie's opinion. But nonetheless he couldn't help replaying the moment over, the feeling of her lips lingering on his skin. But his fantasy was interrupted when she slipped her slim, white hand into his calloused brown one. But he found he really didn't mind. _

Claire was kneeling in front of Aaron's grave, tears cascading from her eyes. Charlie didn't really want to leave her in this state, but this might be the only moment he could get in time for a quick fix.

'But would you chose Heroin over Claire?' His guilty conscience demanded.

Charlie tried to convince himself that that had nothing to do with this, but the memory of the thought remained in his mind. So he ignored the icy sweat pouring down his back, the tremble in his hands, and walked over to her, stooping to be at her level.

He enveloped Claire in his arms and allowed her to sob into his shoulder. "I miss Aaron," She wailed. She stuffed a fist into her mouth to suppress the sobs wracking her frail body, but Charlie simply tutted quietly and removed it. "I remember someone telling me it was okay to cry. So just cry Claire," He whispered. And this time the tears were flowing because Charlie loved her enough to quote her own words back to her.

Charlie shifted uncomfortably. He was still crouched on his feet, and the added weight of Claire against him was making his bended legs stiff. He apologized silently, sending her a reassuring smile when she looked up at him, and repositioned himself so that he was seated in the sand cross-legged, Claire sprawled across his legs.

He didn't know how long they sat there. He rubbed her back in a slow, rythmic pattern that was extremely soothing to the Australian. He was crying too. Claire could feel his hands shake as he caressed her. "Are you alright?" She questioned, rubbing her eyes. Crying always made her feel extremely sleepy.

"Y-yeah," Replied Charlie nervously, his voice hoarse. "I think I might be coming down with something, though. But I'll be fine."

Claire couldn't bring herself to smile, but said in all seriousness, "Good. I couldn't bear losing you as well."

"Don't worry Claire, it's just a cold."

"You're right. I shouldn't be worrying."

* * *

Charlie had managed to slip into the jungle while Claire sat by Aaron's grave. She had been too distracted to notice his disappearance.

Walking a little bit of a distance, he reached into his pocket. He pulled the familiar baggie out, twisting the elastic off and pouring a small portion into his hand. He pinched the mound together to form a small line. He then brought it closer, snorting the line. Blood pounded in his ears and a delicious shiver up his spine made him shudder with pleasure. Wanting more, he licked his hand, hoping to discover more of the Heroin between the folds of his palm.

Charlie was flying. He felt like he could dive head first into a pool inhabited by sharks and walk away unharmed. Forgetting that he was human and bruised easily, he twirled through the trees of the dark jungle, whooping and yelling with pleasure. He had never had such fun in his life!

He allowed himself ten minutes to stay where he was, nodding his head to an imaginary beat, before deciding that Claire might wonder where he was.

He stumbled toward her, trying to act as normally as possible. He knew, though she was quite oblivious to his Heroin use, that it bothered her when he lost control of himself.

"You doing better, Claire?" He asked her quietly. He watched as she stroked the miniature cross adorning her son's grave with her thumb, seeming not to have heard him.

"Claire?" He repeated.

She turned her head slightly. "Yeah?" She sounded so miserable.

"Are you feeling better?"

Claire laughed humourlessly. "I'm not the one who's sick," She joked half-heartedly.

Charlie forced a smile. "Well, I'm feeling a bit better."

"I'm glad."

Without asking if she wanted to leave, Charlie placed a hand on either side of her waist and hoisted her up, carrying her in his arms back to their tent.

Claire said nothing. She hadn't wanted to stay, anyway. Too many bad memories. She allowed Charlie to transport her. She felt tired but she didn't want to sleep. Maybe she'd write in her diary. It had been a while since she'd done that. But how was she supposed to write down what had happened? How could she put in words how she was feeling?

Charlie pulled back the flap of their tent and lowered her onto the make-shift bed. He smoothed back her hair lovingly, threading his fingers through it, and then he left. Claire couldn't help noticing that his pupils were the size of pennies.

And she soon found out why. In his hurry to leave Charlie hadn't noticed that something had fallen from his pocket.

Claire crawled off the bed and toward the object. She picked it up and rolled it between her index finger and thumb. It was a small bag filled with a brown sugar like substance. She knew it was Heroin, but before she went accusing and ruining her wonderful relationship with Charlie, she had to be sure. Ignoring the screaming inside her mind telling her that it was wrong, that she should not stoop to his level, should not so suddenly change all of her opinions on the subject.

And so, she pulled pulled the elastic open with shaking fingers, and unceremoniously poured a small amount into her awaiting hand, sobbed silently, and snorted it. It hurt beyong belief, a stinging, burning sensation beyond description. She cried out and felt tears seep from the corners of her eyes.

She couldn't believe it. She'd done drugs for the first time in her life. And when the pain wore off, it actually felt..._good_.

* * *

**A/N: So, I hope that made up for the long wait! Please comment!**

**xox Sacha**


	12. Chapter 12 Parallel Universe

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews! I appreciate it. **

* * *

Time to Let Go:

Claire felt dizzy. She was scared and she felt boneless like a bowl of Jell-O. She stood, swaying slightly, and stumbled when she tried to return to her bed. Charlie couldn't see her like this. He absolutely couldn't.

But he did. He pulled the flap back and saw her lying there.

"Alright, love?" He questioned, stooping to help her up.

"Yeah," She said it a little too quickly. Charlie stared at her, but brushed it off. He helped her onto the bed, and she sat, staring at the ground.

"Charlie?"

"Yeah, love?"

"The devil stole my voice," She said, her eyes wide with fear. She was nervous, but at the same time strangely excited.

Charlie stared at her again. "You sure you're alright?"

Claire shook her head slightly. "I'm scared. I can't control my speech, and my vision is all fuzzy, and I feel...strange."

Charlie looked over his shoulder and saw the baggie on the ground. He then turned to Claire. "Are you stoned?" He asked incredulously.

Claire nodded. Tears welled in her eyes. "Make it stop, please." She hated that she couldn't control herself. She felt like she was in a parallel universe.

Charlie's expression softened, but only slightly. "I can't make it stop, love. Claire, that was a really stupid thing to do. You know that, right?" Claire nodded again. "Why would you do that? I know it's wrong of me to be taking Heroin again, but just because I do doesn't mean you should. I would really rather you didn't."

Claire was crying. And through his anger, Charlie found it in his heart to pull her against him and stroke her hair. "I'm sorry, Claire. I didn't mean to make you cry. It's my fault. If I had never started again you wouldn't be in this situation. I don't deserve you." Charlie's eyes were sad. "It's just with Aaron and everything, I felt like I needed something to numb the pain."

Claire reached out and stroked his cheek. "I love you, Charlie. I'm sorry, don't leave. Pl-" She burst out laughing all of a sudden. She laughed again, and it sounded strangely far away.

A blur of colour crossed before her eyes, and she could see two Charlie's as he bent over her giggling form, which had fallen backward on to the ground.

"Claire? Are you alright?" She giggled in response. "Claire, oh God. I hate seeing you this way. Are you still scared?" Claire nodded, still laughing madly. "Alright Claire. You just need to relax. You won't be scared if you just go along with it. Don't try to control it because it won't work and it will just make you more nervous. So just let it do what it's supposed to."

Claire relaxed her tense posture, smiling despite herself. The tears were still falling but she wasn't feeling fearful anymore.

"Charlie,"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think I'm going to be okay?"

Charlie sighed, gathering her in his arms. "Yes, love, you'll be fine. I just feel so guilty. You're so pure, I just don't want you to be like I was."

"Charlie, have you had a fix yet today?" She questioned suddenly. Charlie nodded, looking guilty.

"When?"

"Ten minutes ago."

"So you're still high right now?"

"Yeah. I feel really mellow, but I've had much more experience with drugs than you, so that's normal," He replied.

"Then why am I so hyper?"

"Because it's your first time. And you're last time," He looked at her pointedly and she rolled her eyes. She liked what she was feeling right now, now that she was relaxed and going along with whatever the Heroin wanted her to do.

"Charlie, I'm a big girl, I can make these decisions for myself."

"You're right," He responded. "But I'm not going to give you any. You're going to have to find some yourself."

Claire huffed and glared at him. "Well," She said, closing her eyes. "I know that you want to protect me, Charlie, but I can do what I want."

"Claire, I don't think you realize how dangerous Heroin is."

"Then why do you use it?" Her gaze skipped over him and her eyes seemed to roll on their own as she opened them.

"Because I need it! Because I'll go through withdrawal without it. But I'll stop. For you I'll stop."

"I don't care whether or not you quit! I've discovered something I like," She stood and yelled at him, "I love you, but you're not going to stop me. Why should you get something to numb the pain and I shouldn't? It's not fair!" She stomped her foot childishly and tripped a bit. Charlie caught her before she fell and kissed her forehead.

"Please don't do this, Claire." Claire raised her chin defiantly and he looked at her straight in the eyes. "Please."

"Why?"

"You don't realize what you're doing!" He repeated.

"But I want to," She whined. "I like it. It keeps the demons at bay."

"A few minutes ago you were scared beyond belief, Claire. How is it that you've come to like it so quickly?" But Charlie knew the answer. At first, Heroin was loveable.

"I just do. Can we talk about this later?" She urged.

"Fine." He kissed her on the cheek to let her know he still loved her, even if he was disapointed with her.

Claire exited the tent. She was feeling good and didn't know how long the high would last, so she was going to make the most of it. She didn't want to spend another minute in that gloomy tent.

She was walking along the beach, tripping every now and then when she heard a familiar voice from the jungle. Walking toward it, she came to see Sawyer, shirt off, chopping wood. He was humming loudly.

She stood before him and then sat down on the ground cross-legged, staring.

"Claire," He greeted her gruffly.

She nodded. "Charlie-Jack-I mean Sawyer," She laughed to herself.

Sawyer quirked an eyebrow. "You doin' better, Sweetheart?"

Claire nodded and grinned.

"Did you just grin?"

"Yep," She answered. She rose to her feet and advanced toward him.

"You alright, babe? You want me to get the Leprechaun or something?"

Claire shook her head. "I'm fine. Don't get Charlie." She beside him. "Whatcha doin'?"

"Chopping wood," He answered with a cheeky grin. "Say, Claire, I know that you've been doin' better these couple of days, but I didn't expect to see ya down right cheerful."

"I'm not cheerful," She said. "I'm high." And then with a chuckle she left, a very confused and shocked Sawyer staring after her.

Claire spent the rest of the day in harmony with herself. She talked with Kate who thought, that thought her friend was much better, was acting strange. And when Claire's high wore off she came crashing to the ground. Charlie came to her. His eyes were red and Claire had a feeling he'd been crying.

"I'm sorry," She whispered. And she _was_ sorry. Not for using the Heroin, no. She was sorry she had made him cry when they were supposed to take care of each other.

"It's okay," He said softly. He hugged her to him as if he never wanted to let go.

Claire spent the rest of the day in Charlie's arms. She was burnt out, exhausted and fell asleep quickly.

Though he wanted a fix, Charlie didn't want to set a bad example for Claire. So he watched while she slept, and eventually slept as well.

"I'm sorry, Claire," He whispered before he fell into a deep slumber.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry this chapter wasn't so good, it was more of a filler chapter. Hope you enjoyed it anyway. Sorry everyone was so out of character.**

**xox Sacha**


	13. Chapter 13 One Argument Too Many

**A/N: Sorry for the wait, enjoy! Thanks for all the lovely reviews. By the way, Desmond and Claire are **_**just friends**_**. **

* * *

Time to Let Go:

Claire awoke feeling groggy. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and turned to see that Charlie was still sleeping. A sudden urge for a fix overcame her. She didn't understand how she could be so obsessed with Heroin after only her first time trying it, but from the stories Charlie told her she understood that it was addictive.

Charlie was sleeping deeply, snoring quietly, though he would mutter incoherently every now and then. So she very slowly slipped her hand into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out the little baggie of Heroin, which was now half empty. Carefully, holding her breath, she edged away from him and crept from the bed.

She left the tent, ran across the hot sand with everyone watching her and hid in the bushes of the jungle. She proceeded to snort the Heroin and then twisted the baggie closed and placed it in the pocket of her shorts.Claire then went back to the beach and sat down in the sand in front of the ocean, placing her bruised feet in the water.

A few minutes later someone sat down beside her. She turned her head to see Hurley staring at her. "Hey, Hurley," She greeted, her voice somewhat shaky.

"Hey, dude," He replied. Claire smiled slightly, feeling a bit awkward about the way Hurley was looking at her.

"...What's up?" She asked, grinning widely. She laughed a bit to herself.

"I could ask you the same question," He retorted.

Claire frowned in confusion, her head tilted to the side slightly. "What do you mean?" She asked in a dreamy voice.

Hurley sighed. "Claire, I saw you just now in the jungle. I just want to tell you that lots of people care about you, that's the reason I want you to stop, not because I want to control you or whatever."

Claire shook her head, her eyes wide. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Dude, I'm just trying to help you."

Claire clenched her fists in frustration. "No offense Hurley, but what I do is none of your business." Her voice was strangely high-pitched and shrill.

Hurley looked slightly shocked. "Dude, I'm cursed. I'm the reason for everything that's been happening; why you're hooked on drugs, and stuff. I have to make sure you get better."

"Hurley, I'm fine!" She hissed. "And you're not cursed. And I can do what I want!"

"I am cursed! And are you sure about what you're doing?" He demanded.

"Why do you have to be so annoying?!" She blurted. She didn't like being rude to Hurley, or to anyone for that matter, but he was being so irritating. "You're not the boss of me!"

"Fine!" Hurley yelled. He stormed off angrily. "Do whatever you want, Claire!"

Jack came up behind Claire and sat down. "What's going on?" He questioned, concerned.

"Oh, not you too!" She groaned exasperatedly. She got up and stalked off into the jungle, unaware that she was being watched by everyone.

She walked on, muttering to herself and grinning the whole way. She was talking to herself when she stumbled and fell. She rose to her feet and wasn't even completely straightened when she staggered and fell again.

"Are ye alright, Claire?" Desmond's Scottish accent rang out at her, strangely far away. He bent and pulled her up. Claire breathed in sharply and shook out her scraped hand in pain. "I think so," She responded.

Desmond took her hand and examined it. It was only a small cut but was stinging from the dirt that had been lodged inside.

He blew on it gently. "It should be better now."

She pulled her hand away slowly, fascinated by the rippling outline of it as she moved it. "Are you sure ye're alright?" He persisted, giving her a confused glance.

"Never been better," She said distractedly, not making eye contact.

"What's in ye're pocket?" He questioned suddenly.

"Sorry?"

"There's something in of ye're pocket. What is it?"

Claire turned away from him defensively. "Nothing that concerns you," She shot back.

Desmond rolled his eyes. "I guess whatever ye have in ye're pocket is none of my business."

"I agree," She said coldly. She was leaning forward slightly, almost drunkenly. When he looked closer Desmond could see dark circles under her bloodshot eyes.

"Do ye want me to bring you back to the beach?" He offered. Claire was acting strangely, and he didn't want to leave her in the dark, mysterious jungle alone.

"I think I'll stay here-oh my God!" She squealed suddenly.

"What is it?!" Desmond jumped slightly in surprise.

"I feel all crumbly," She told him, laughing. "It's all...hollow and stuff."

After gazing at her in wonder for a moment, Desmond pulled Claire toward the beach by the sleeve of her shirt. "What are you doing?!" She exclaimed, glaring.

"Something's wrong with you, Claire."

"That was extremely _rude_," She snarled, trying to pull away. He lead her toward Jack's tent, where Jack was sitting.

Calling his name, Desmond entered with Claire in tow. "Jack," He said, "Can ye take a look at Claire? Something's wrong."

Claire glared dangerously. "Don't you talk about me like I'm not here," She spat, pulling away forcefull. "And I don't need your help," She added to Jack, who was watching her with apprehension.

"Desmond, maybe you should leave," Jack addressed the Scotsman. Desmond nodded and left, hovering nearby to speak to Jack when he and Claire were done. "Why don't you sit down, Claire," He suggested, and Claire did, though grudgingly.

Jack observed the woman before him, who had crossed her arms over her chest defiantly. "How are you doing, Claire?"

"What do you think?" She spat.

"Of course I know you're still broken up about Aaron's death," He saw that she didn't even flinch at the name of her dead son, "But I want to know how you've been holding up. People have noticed that you've been acting strange. I saw your confrontation with Hurley this morning, and you were acting quite reproachful with Desmond just now."

Claire forced herself to smile, and her head bent to the side dizzyingly. "Just PMS," She lied. "It's nothing."

"It's not nothing, Claire. You usually get along with everybody."

Claire stood but was so dizzy she was forced to take a seat once again. "That has nothing to do with this! Just leave me alone, okay? Just leave me and Aaron alone!"

"...What?"

"I mean...me and Charlie." She didn't seemed as fazed as she should over her mistake.

Unsure of what he would find, Jack looked deeply into her eyes. They should have been their normal electric blue, but instead had been swallowed by her dilated pupils and looked black.

"Have you been drinking?" He demanded bluntly, recalling her short term memory loss and clumsiness.

"No."

"Are you lying?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!" She shouted, standing. "Now stop analysing me! I'm fine. Leave me alone." She stormed out of the tent and went back to her tent. Charlie was no longer sleeping but sitting awake in bed, staring at his hands, which were shaking.

He looked up when Claire entered. "Morning," He greeted her. She didn't respond and simply lay down in bed.

"Where've you been?"

"I went for a walk," She answered shortly.

"Are you okay?"

"No," Tears were in her eyes now. But she refused to let them fall. Charlie was worried about her enough without having to worry that she was depressed. Not that he hadn't witnessed her crying before. Charlie gathered her in his arms and she rested her head on his shoulder.

"What happened today?" He asked her.

"I had a fight with Hurley. And then with Desmond, and then with Jack."

"About what?"

"Nevermind, I don't even remember," She lied.

"Do you want me to talk to them for you?"

"No," She lied again. Because truthfully she wanted her arguments with her friends to be resolved.

Charlie planted a kiss on her forehead. "I'll do it later on, alright?"

"Thanks, Charlie," She simpered. Charlie could read her like a book. Well, most of the time. She was very surprised that he hadn't noticed she was stoned yet. He obviously trusted her enough to think that she had listened to his reason.

**With Jack...**

Desmond entered Jack's tent after he saw Claire stomp away. "What happened?"

"I think she's drunk. When I asked her if she'd been drinking she got upset."

"Where would she have gotten the alcohol?"

"There's still Sawyer's stash, the remaining alcohol from the Hatch," Jack informed him.

"I don't think she's been drinking, mate," Desmond said, sitting down. "Claire's been acting strange, but I don't think alcohol has anything to do with it. I was a drunk, remember, so I'll know all about it."

"I guess Aaron's death is doing strange things to her."

"I guess so, mate."

An hour later, Charlie entered Jack's tent. "Listen, Claire apologizes about how she acted earlier," Charlie told him.

"Why didn't she just come tell me herself?"

"She's really upset."

"I see. Well, I understand how she's feeling."

"I really don't think you do," Charlie replied. "Have you ever lost a child, Jack?"

"No, I haven't, Charlie."

"Case closed."

Charlie turned to leave, but Jack caught him by the shoulder.

"Has Claire been drinking at all today?"

"No! What would make you think that?"

"She couldn't walk straight today when I spoke with her and her pupils were dilated. Those are some of the symptons."

Charlie rolled his eyes. "I know, Jack. But she hasn't been drinking."

"Then what's wrong with her?"

A thought suddenly dawned on Charlie. "I know what happened," He said, more to himself than to Jack. And he turned around and left to speak with Hurley.

* * *

**A/N: I hope this chapter was good! Please review, sorry the characters were a bit OOC!**

**xox Sacha**


	14. Chapter 14 Tussle

**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews. Anyway, enjoy this chapter. Please review!**

* * *

Time to Let Go:

Charlie stormed toward Hurley in a rage. Claire didn't usually blow up at people unless they really upset her, and since she was acting very strange, he could only imagine that she was high. Why else would she have gotten upset with Hurley unless he had found out?

"Why didn't you tell me?" He demanded, glaring down at the sitting Hurley reproachfully.

"…Tell you what?" Questioned Hurley, though he had a good idea of what Charlie was talking about.

"Why didn't you come and tell me right away when you thought that Claire was stoned?" Charlie spat.

Hurley shook his head warily. "I don't _think _she's high, dude. I know."

"_How _do you know? And more importantly, why didn't you come get me right away?"

"I was walking by the beach when I heard a rustle in the bushes, man. I thought it might be the crazy ass smoke monster, but when I went to see it was Claire, snorting Heroin. I tried to confront her without telling you first 'cause I thought she might be less defensive if you didn't know. But chill out, dude, you know I would have told you eventually."

Charlie sighed sadly and sunk to the ground, resting his head in his hands. "This isn't right," He said, a slight tremor in his voice. He wiped sweat from his forehead with shaking hands and sighed. Hurley patted his back uncomfortably.

"Dude, I think all the stress is getting to you. You look seriously sick, pal. You're all shaky and sweaty, and you look really pale…" Hurley trailed off, waiting to see if Charlie would answer. He didn't.

"Anyway, like you know, Claire got really upset so I left. I heard from Desmond that he brought Claire to Jack, so I thought that things would be better. I thought that Jack would have noticed the symptoms and told you about it. That's why I didn't tell you, though I would have eventually." Charlie sighed again. "What am I going to do? I don't want Heroin to become a part of Claire's life the way it's a part of mine, but I can't stop. I can't bear going through withdrawal again, I just can't. But I can't just make Claire stop using and go ahead and use it myself."

Hurley stared at his friend curiously. "So you're using Heroin again too, man? I thought you were over that!"

"Well, I'm not. Those stupid Virgin Mary statues are following me. I threw them all in the ocean, but I found them neatly piled on a plank of wood where we would have built Eko's church. I think God has it in for me."

Hurley shut his eyes and huffed in exasperation. "Some day something absolutely terrible is going to happen to someone close to me, and everyone will listen to me when I say that I'm cursed. It's my fault, dude. You should really stay away from me; I'm bad for you. I'll bet you anything I'm the reason Aaron died."

"You're bad for me?" Repeated Charlie incredulously, trying not to let the mention of Claire's son's name affect him. "_You're _bad for _me_? Hurley, I'm a junkie. How can you be worse than me? To Claire, to everyone?!" He roared hysterically.

Hurley stood and so did Charlie. Hurley began to shake Charlie by the shoulders roughly. "You're not listening to me! I'm cursed! Get away while you still can, man!"

Charlie attempted to pry Hurley off of him, but when he failed mustered all the strength he had and launched his fist at Hurley's jaw. It collided with bone crushing impact, causing both Hurley and Charlie to cry out in pain, for Charlie's knuckles were in almost as much pain as Hurley's face was.

"You jerk!" Bellowed Hurley savagely, rubbing his swelling jaw. "What is your problem?!"

Charlie swore under his breath and cradled his sore fist in the other hand. "I'm sorry," He said grudgingly to Hurley, not making eye contact. "I haven't had a fix in a while; I don't know what came over me. I guess I'm a bit irritable."

"Yeah? Well, sorry doesn't cut it! And you're more than just a bit irritable!"

"You started it! Shaking me like that; honestly, it would get anyone worked up."

"That's no reason to fucking punch me in the face! Not cool, man!" And with that Hurley set off for Jack's medical tent. Charlie trailed after him, continuing to apologize, not sounding the least bit sincere. He also wanted to have his hand inspected in case he had broken it.

After entering the tent after Hurley, not asking whether he would want his privacy, Jack stared up at them from the tarp he was seated upon on the ground. "What happened?" He questioned, as soon as he saw the furious expressions on both men's faces.

"Charlie here thought it seemed like a good idea to punch me in the face!" Blurted Hurley, shooting daggers at Charlie with his eyes.

"He was shaking me as though he wanted to break my neck!" Cut in Charlie, sending a returning glare.

Jack nodded to what each of them was saying. "Why don't you start from the beginning?" He asked Hurley.

Hurley nodded. He opened his mouth to start his story as Charlie tried to translate something to him with his eyes. 'Don't tell about Claire,' Charlie mouthed to Hurley. And though he was undoubtedly angry with his friend, Hurley had the grace to leave out the part of Claire doing drugs.

"So," Concluded Hurley after telling the story, "It was pretty much that I found out he was back on Heroin and told him to stop, but he was a bit irritable," Hurley quoted Charlie's earlier words with sarcasm, "because he hadn't had a fix in a while. So he ignored me and when I told him I was cursed and it was my fault he wasn't listening, so I started to shake him, and then he punched me."

Jack nodded again. "I see," He said, and he then examined Hurley's face, told him that nothing was broken and that the swelling would go down in a few days, and then moved on to Charlie, who was still clasping one hand in the other, hissing in pain when Jack pulled it toward him to see more clearly. He looked at it for a while before informing Charlie that three of his knuckles were broken. "You'll have to wear this for a couple weeks," He tossed a tenser bandage at Charlie, who wrapped it up carefully. "Sorry, but it's the only thing good enough to help that we have." Charlie simply shrugged. As he turned to go, Jack stopped him by placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Lay off the drugs, Charlie. They're obviously making you moody, and they're not a healthy way to deal with Aaron's death. We can use some painkillers to help with the withdrawal. I just hate to think that you're digging your own grave."

Charlie nodded. He hadn't necessarily agreed. He had simply nodded. His answer couldn't be misinterpreted, could it?

**With Claire…**

Claire lay sprawled across the bed, her arms hanging over the edge. She absentmindedly traced shapes in the sand below her, delighted in the way the sand inched away from her intruding fingers.

"Move away!" She cried, laughing at the grains of sand. Charlie entered just then. "What?" He questioned, confused.

"Oh, nothing," Replied Claire dreamily, obviously delighted in the way she was puzzling him.

"Claire, we have to talk," Charlie began cautiously, worried he might set her off on another furious rampage or else make her burst into tears.

"About what?"

"Us."

"What about us?" She asked conversationally, as if they talked about their relationship everyday.

"You used again today, didn't you?"

"What are you talk-"

"Don't lie, Claire. Hurley saw you."

Claire rolled her eyes. "Who cares? So I used, there's no big deal!"

"It _is _a big deal, Claire!" Charlie shouted exasperatedly.

"You do it all the time!" She shot back accusingly, glaring.

"That's the thing; I don't want you to be like me. I know you're grieving, but this is not a good way to deal with Aa-with his death."

"You can talk!" She retorted indignantly. "You're such a hypocrite, Charlie! I'm a big girl, I can do what I want. You can't stop me. Now stop acting like Jack, because you're not him! You're Charlie Pace, and you love me. And since you do, you should look past my faults and love me anyway, even if you don't approve of what I do!"

Charlie's fierce expression softened momentarily. "I could never stop loving you, Claire. I don't approve of you using, and yes I am a hypocrite. So to make you stop using, I'll stop too, okay? We'll do it together. Jack said he has some pills for the withdrawal pain."

"But you love Heroin!" Exclaimed Claire, astounded.

"I love you more. So much more. I would do anything for you, Claire."

Claire sighed and yawned sleepily. She was exhausted. Arguing always took a lot out of her. She kissed Charlie's temple and apologized, "I'm sorry. You're right. We'll do it together."

Charlie nodded, his face set. He was about to leave to speak with Jack once more when Claire suddenly gave a squeal of surprise.

"What's happened to your hand?!" She gasped, taking his injured one in her own.

"I got in a bit of a fight with Hurley today," He said sheepishly, feeling ashamed of the way he had acted and thankful that Hurley hadn't betrayed Claire's secret though they were angry with each other. He didn't want to embarrass Claire and betray her trust by letting the whole island know that she was using drugs.

"That makes two of us," She joked half-heartedly. "Though ours wasn't actually a fist fight." She kissed his hand gently and lay down on the bed, lying on the covers.

"Things will get better, you'll see," Charlie told her softly before exiting the tent and heading toward Jack's.

"Back already?" Asked Jack with an air of forced cheerfulness.

"I decided to follow your advice. I'm going to stop using."

Jack smiled weakly and patted Charlie on the back. "I'm proud of you," He said. He then proceeded to rummage through the medical suitcase for a bottle of aspirin.

Once he had found it, he pried open the lid and shook the container until two purple pills slid into his hand. He gave them to Charlie and turned to pass him some water, though not before setting the aspirin bottle down on the top of the suitcase. While his back was turned, Charlie took another two of the aspirins and put them in his pocket. He then swallowed the pills with water from the water bottle Jack had handed to him. If the fact that Claire had been using was to remain a secret, he would have to make sure that Jack didn't find out that she needed painkillers for the withdrawal.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for the wait! Hoped everyone enjoyed that, and that it was not too OOC! Please review! **

**xox Sacha**


	15. Chapter 15 Guilty Conscience

**A/N: Another chapter! Sorry for the wait. Enjoy, please review! **

* * *

Time to Let Go:

"Here, take these," Charlie handed Claire the two purple aspirins that lay in his hand. Grudgingly she took them. She had told Charlie that she would stop using Heroin with him, but it had only been to calm him down. Personally, she didn't think Heroin was anything bad. Quite the opposite, really. What a feeling it gave her! As if she was invincible, as if she could do no wrong!

She tossed the pills into her mouth and swallowed some water to wash them down.

"There. That wasn't so bad, now was it?" Praised Charlie, smiling encouragingly. Claire rolled her eyes. "I'm not a child, Charlie. You can talk to me normally."

Charlie's face fell, but he turned his head before Claire could notice. "Sorry, I'm just not sure how to act around you when you're like this. It seems so unlikely that you would be a junkie, Claire."

Claire sighed and grasped his uninjured hand in her own, pulling him onto the bed. "It is okay, Charlie. I'm not _that _offended."

Charlie nodded. Obviously Claire's high was wearing off, for which he was glad. He had given her the aspirins in advance so she would have to go through the least amount of pain possible and hoped that it would help.

It wasn't really working for Charlie. Hopefully the aspirin would kick in soon, because the tremors in his body were getting worse and he was sweating like mad.

Claire was still feeling normal. She was a bit tired and moody, but otherwise fine. If only Charlie felt the same! While he tried to hide it, Claire could tell that he was in pain. She didn't understand why he didn't just give in and take a fix. Sure, it wasn't exactly healthy, but using wouldn't kill them, would it? Claire knew she was only using to deal with Aaron's death, but she didn't care. For the first time in what seemed like forever, she didn't feel a heavy weight on her heart. Well, at least not when she was high. When the effects of the Heroin use wore off she felt the same soul possessing grief. She wished she could stay high forever. Then she wouldn't have to deal with the fact that her son was gone.

Even thinking about it caused goose bumps to rise up on her skin and sadness to settle into the very depths of her heart. When she thought of it like that, as if Aaron were gone instead of dead, she felt a surge of hope that he would be found, that her son would be returned to her. But she didn't want to fool herself, so she reminded herself that nothing she did or said could change that fact, and tried not to let the tears show.

It wasn't that she was afraid to cry in front of Charlie. She'd done it so many times. But Claire thought that maybe, if she could manage the way she acted on the outside, she might be able to control her emotions on the inside. Surely it would help her farther along the road to recovery if she actually tried.

Claire regarded Charlie closely. She couldn't help the jolt of affection she felt for him as he tried to do what was best for her, even if she didn't agree with him on the Heroin issue and his efforts were nonetheless futile. He was such a good person. Not many people could see that.

Claire was a bit bored. There wasn't much to do. She wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone, but scavenging food and washing clothing wasn't any more appealing. And no way was she going to take a nap, which she could tell Charlie was going to suggest. She'd spent half her time sleeping since the incident. Which was strange, because she used to never be able to sleep during the day. She remembered getting a speech from her mother for talking when she was supposed to be napping in daycare. The memory brought a smile to her face, which instantly transformed into a scowl. It wasn't fair that Aaron would never be able to experience life off of the island. He had barely experienced life at all! He had been so young… More tears burned in Claire's eyes. She wasn't only upset about Aaron. The memory had got her thinking of her mother. What had happened to her, back in the real world? Had someone pulled the plug and disconnected her from the machines that sustained her life? Had she, Claire, been as good a mother to Aaron as Carole Littleton had been to her? _I was horrible to her_, Claire mentally answered.

Charlie had left the tent to do God knew what, leaving Claire to reminisce. During her teen years, Claire had never truly appreciated her mother. Carole Littleton had lied to Claire and told her that Christian Shepard, her father, had died when she was two years old, and even though Claire hadn't known that her mother was telling her falsehoods she had been bitter. In her mind, somehow it had been her mother's fault.

Claire's vision drifted out of focus. Not the same as when she was stoned, her eyes darting around the place, causing her to only see blurry snatches of her surroundings. This was more peaceful, allowing her eyes to rest without closing them.

_Claire shifted her position on the uncomfortable mat she was lying on. It was nap time at the daycare and she just wasn't sleepy. She glanced at the girl lying beside her, apparently asleep. But Claire knew better. _

"_Stephanie, are you awake?" She whispered, sitting up. Though the lights were off, Claire was able to see her friend's eyes open. "Steph?" She asked again._

"_Yeah, I'm awake. I'm so bored! I've been trying to count sheep, but it's not working!" Stephanie informed her. _

_Claire smiled. "Yeah, me either. What do you want to do?"_

_Stephanie shrugged. "Not much we can do. We'll get a time out if Sherry hears us," She stated, speaking of the daycare director._

_Claire rolled her eyes, grinning. "We've got to be sneaky, that's all, Steph. We'll be really quiet and careful not to get caught."_

_Stephanie giggled, causing Claire to shush her. "Okay, come on. I'll signal you when it's clear."_

_Claire nodded. Did Sherry really expect them to sleep at 11:00 AM, anyway? They were eight years old, for crying out loud! Stephanie tip toed through the room, pausing only to pull open the door. It creaked, and it sounded so loud to Claire in the silent room that she had the feeling people in buildings up the street could hear it. Slipping through the door, her auburn curls bouncing, Stephanie peered around the hall before turning back to Claire and signaling her over. Claire hurried toward her freckle-faced friend as quickly as she could, dodging the sleeping bodies of the rest of the children at the daycare. When she arrived at the open door she smiled at Stephanie. "We did it!" She murmured excitedly. Stephanie nodded and giggled. _

_And just then Sherry appeared, the lines on her face more prominent than ever. "Would you mind telling me why you're not sleeping, girls?" _

Claire missed those easier times. In her teen years she'd been in a rebellious stage, but during her early childhood she had been a very sweet girl.

**With Charlie…**

Charlie traipsed through the jungle, the baggie of Heroin burning a hole in his pocket. He hadn't been able to resist. Saying he would stop using and actually doing it were two different cases. Sure, he wanted to stop. He really did. But it hurt to stop. Not just physically, which of course it did, but also emotionally. Heroin had been his scapegoat, his way of dealing with the loss that was Aaron's death. To stop meant the pain returning immediately, increased tenfold.

So he had snuck into Jack's tent and stolen the baggie he had handed over just a couple hours earlier that very day. And then he ran for it. That was how he had found himself in the current situation; tramping through the jungle to have a fix. He needed to go in deep enough so not to be seen, but not so much that he got lost. Jack, Kate, and Sayid may all know where they were going when they went through the jungle of freaking mystery, but he sure didn't.

Charlie's mind was a whirl of questions, most of which he couldn't answer. Would Jack notice it was gone? If so, how could Charlie return it before Jack got too suspicious? And how on earth was he supposed to hide this from Claire? He sighed heavily. This was much more complicated than it needed to be. Why didn't he just tell Jack he had changed his mind? Why didn't he ask the island (he felt a bit foolish at this) that he wanted the rest of his stash back?

_Because_, he answered himself, _you're a bloody coward. You don't want to disappoint Jack and you don't want Claire to start using again just because you do. _Sighing again, Charlie went through the familiar process of snorting the Heroin.

It was a relief, getting the substance into his system. A couple of minutes later the tremors that had been with him since the day before were gone, and in their stead was a pleasant warmth that spread through his very being. He felt considerably more optimistic. He could do this. It wasn't _wrong_. It was his decision.

But he wouldn't tell Claire. No, it would be his secret. She simply musn't know.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading, please comment! **

**xox Sacha**


	16. Chapter 16 Mother May I

**A/N: Enjoy, comments, constructive criticism, and suggestions are welcomed! **

* * *

Time to Let Go:

_Don't be stupid, she doesn't have a clue_, Charlie chided himself, chancing another glance in Claire's direction. She had no reason to suspect that Charlie was stoned; he was acting as normally as he could. In fact, Claire was particularly unobservant this afternoon. After returning from the jungle, where he had gone to have a fix where no one would see him, he had found her staring glassy eyed at the ground, tears slowly trickling down her cheeks. He had lifted her gently and set her down in his lap and asked her what was the matter, to which she replied that she missed her mother.

"Don't you mean Aaron?" He had asked. She had nodded and said, "Him too."

Charlie was utterly confused. Claire was acting simply bizarre. At first he had thought she was stoned, but her pupils were of normal size and she wasn't acting nearly as hyper as she would have if she'd been using.

Now he was arranging the tent, putting things away just to keep himself busy. But he watched her discreetly when she was looking the other way and saw that she wasn't any better than she had been earlier. Charlie was just folding some clothes to put in a suitcase when he came across something he was sure they had lost.

"Claire," He said, turning to look her in the eyes. She gazed steadily back, not reacting to what he was holding. Or that was how it appeared on the outside. On the inside a ferocious argument was taking place. In Charlie's hands was the pneumatic injector he had found in the plane wreckage and given to her and Aaron. "I thought we lost this."

"Well, it can stay lost for all I care. I appreciate you getting it for me back then, but I only used that thing because I thought Aaron was sick. It didn't make any difference, there's no point in having it."

Charlie nodded at this. "Fair enough." He tucked it away inside the suitcase in case she would want it later. Charlie had no idea that the pneumatic injector had played a large role in Aaron's death, he simply thought that withdrawal was catching up with Claire and making her in a bad mood. His assumption was wrong, because Claire really didn't plan on quitting Heroin anyway. She just had to wait for the best time to sneak a fix.

"So, you said you missed your mother," Said Charlie, sitting down on the bed beside her. Claire nodded. "I do. I was thinking earlier when suddenly she just popped into my head and I haven't been able to get my mind off of her since. Do you think I was as good a mother to Aaron as my mum was to me?"

Charlie forced a shrug. The mention of the child's name always made his mouth feel dry and his eyes sting horribly. "You were the most wonderful mother there could ever be, Claire. Don't ever think otherwise."

"But still, do you think I was better, worse, or the same?"

"You'll have to tell me more about your mum."

Claire nodded, a ghost of a smile gracing her lips as she remembered her life with her mother. "My mum was the greatest. She was a librarian and I really nice person. Everyone said so," She informed him. She paused for a moment before continuing. "At a really young age she had an affair with a married man, a doctor, and then later had me. My dad visited me every now and then but eventually mum told him not to come back because she didn't like that he had another family. I was about two."

"My childhood passed by fine, mum took good care of me and I had my aunt Lindsey, too. But when I turned into a teenager I became sour with her. I guess I was in one of those rebellious stages, but it seems a lot worse than that when I think back on it. I was horrible, I don't remember why, when she was such a great mother."

Charlie listened attentively as Claire poured her heart out to him. He could tell that Claire had never told anyone besides him everything about her life and was extremely pleased that she had chosen to enlighten him. Breathless, she sucked in a few deep breaths before continuing on, her voice grave. "When I was seventeen I got in a very bad argument with her. I was driving and she made me so furious I started speeding and we got in an accident. When the police questioned me I lied and said that a truck had forced me off the road. Then Dad showed up. I didn't remember him, but he turned up one day after the accident. He paid for the hospital bills and explained everything to me but we also got in an argument and I haven't heard from him since."

Her story over, Claire peered into Charlie's face, trying to read him. It felt good to get the truth off her chest after all of these years, but she didn't want to be judged for her mistakes when she paid for them every day. She didn't want him to think she was a heartless bitch that had been a horror to her parents.

Charlie was quiet for a short while, apparently thinking over what she had said. Finally, after what seemed like hours but was really only minutes, he said, "We've all got skeletons in our closet, Claire. I know I do. But I don't think that who we are should be defined by the mistakes we made in the past. Your integrity as a mother is wholesome. Your mother sounds wonderful, but I don't think that you should compare yourself to her. I think that would be an insult to her memory. She may not be dead but that doesn't mean that thinking or saying such things isn't degrading. You're just as good a mother as your mum was to you, let's leave it at that."

Impressed, Claire nodded to what Charlie had said. Strangely, it had calmed her down to know that he didn't think she was better than her mother (because she agreed that it was insulting to compare herself with someone that could very well be dead) and that he didn't think she was worse. It was a balance.

"Thanks," She said with a shaky smile.

"No worries, my dear," He chuckled. Claire laughed once and smiled. That was more like the Charlie she knew and loved.

The argument in her mind about the pneumatic injector had moved aside but had not been forgotten, and when Charlie left to get some water she sought the very object out. She walked over to the suitcase full of their things and searched through it. Finding the pneumatic injector, she pulled it out and examined it. It looked exactly as it had the last time she'd used it, the day before Aaron's death. Shuddering at the reminder, she placed a vial of vaccine in the opening and then brought it to her arm. She had to know if it had been her fault Aaron had died. And the only way to shoot herself up with the vaccine once a day and swallow a bottle full of the pills that Ethan Rom, her worst enemy who was in fact dead, had prescribed for her. It was going to be tricky, but she simply could not live with not knowing. The guilt was getting worse every day, and though she hadn't really realized before, the thought that she could be responsible for her own child's death was one of the reasons she couldn't get better.

Claire pulled the trigger and, with a hiss of air escaping, the vaccine was inserted into her bloodstream.

If Libby had been alive she could have helped Claire to recall the details of that day in Ethan's lab. But Libby was gone, and Claire couldn't do it by herself. But maybe there was a way. Did the prescription drugs have to be exactly those that Ethan had prescribed for her? He hadn't mentioned the name of the pills, just that they were for in case she and the baby had been allergic to the medication he had shot her with to keep them healthy. So the prescription pills were probably some kind of antibiotics. She just had to go through Jack's tent and find antibiotics that were powerful enough.

It didn't cross Claire's mind once that she might die by swallowing a bottle full of pills and shooting up with the vaccine, though she was no longer stoned.

**With Charlie…**

Charlie had told Claire he was going to get water, but really he was returning the Heroin to Jack's tent, hoping he wouldn't notice. Luckily, Jack wasn't there when Charlie called him hesitantly from outside of the tent. So Charlie pulled back the flap and entered. Thinking it best not to tarry, he quickly returned the baggie to where he had found it. Or at least, he _thought _that was from where he had taken it. But it could just as easily have been there, beside the flashlight. Come to think of it, Charlie couldn't remember where he had taken the Junk from. He was just about to retrace his steps all the way back to when he had first handed Jack his stash earlier that day when a familiar voice made him jump.

"Charlie? What are ye doing here, brother?"

Charlie twisted to face Desmond slowly, trying to rearrange his face into an innocent smile, and failing to do so miserably. Somehow he managed to place the baggie in his back pocket without Desmond noticing.

"I was just…looking for Jack."

Desmond raised his eyebrows doubtfully. "Sure ye were."

"I was!" Snarled Charlie defensively. He had been able to act normally with Claire, but now his high was getting the best of him.

"Never said otherwise. What did ye want Jack for?"

"I just needed an aspirin. I've got a headache."

Desmond looked around the tent, and while his gaze wasn't locked on him, Charlie took the baggie from his pocket and placed it beside Jack's flashlight.

When Desmond turned back he held the aspirin bottle. He handed it to Charlie, who thanked him. "Listen Charlie, I've been meaning to talk to ye," Said Desmond.

"What about?" Questioned Charlie suspiciously.

"About you and Claire. Ye two are hiding something from everyone else, aye?"

Charlie shrugged. "Don't know what you mean."

"Charlie, Locke told me ye used to be a Junkie. Have ye been using again? And has Claire started too?"

Charlie shook his head. "Mind your own business, Des. This doesn't involve you." Charlie turned around to walk away when he felt himself being lifted from behind. Desmond was holding him by the scruff of his shirt.

"What are you doing, you wanker?!" He demanded, flailing his limbs about wildly. "Are you mad?!"

Desmond looked positively fearsome. He had look on his face that made Charlie want to back away. "Tell me what's been happening, Charlie. Tell me now," Desmond said in a dangerously low tone. Charlie flinched. "Stop talking nonsense!" He snapped back.

"I know that ye've been using and that Claire has too. Why else would ye both have been acting so strange lately, eh?"

"Alright, I'll tell you, just let me down!" Barked Charlie, glaring. Desmond dropped him and Charlie scramble to his feet. "Yes, Claire and I have been using. But just today we've decided to stop. Why's it such a big deal to you, anyway?"

Desmond had calmed at the information that Charlie and Claire had stopped using, but immediately became nervous when Charlie asked him the question.

He breathed in deeply and said, "There's something I haven't told ye either, brother. I can see the future. And in the future I see you and Claire dying."

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for the cliffhanger, I couldn't resist. Please review, thanks for reading!**

**xox Sacha**


	17. Chapter 17 Flashes and Lies

**A/N: Another chapter. Hope you all enjoy, I'll give you all virtual hugs if you review! Thanks for the reviews on the past chapters, by the way. **

* * *

Time to Let Go:

Charlie stared at Desmond intensely for a few moments before his face cracked into a smile. "Stop joking around, Des," He said, prodding the Scotsman on the shoulder. Desmond closed his eyes and sighed heavily. "I'm not joking, Charlie. _Ye're going to die_."

Charlie's smile transformed into a scowl. "This isn't funny, Des. Seriously, stop."

Desmond glared in response to the look Charlie was giving him. "I'm not kiddin' aroun', mate! I have flashes. And in these flashes, ye and ye're girl…die."

Charlie grudgingly allowed Desmond to explain once again. What the man was telling him was ridiculous, but Charlie could not so quickly dismiss the look of honesty mixed with sadness and exasperation on Desmond's face.

"Are you telling me the truth, Des?" Charlie asked, not sure what to believe.

Desmond sighed again. "Yes," He replied. "Charlie, I wouldn' try to trick ye. I care abou' ye and Claire."

Charlie couldn't help the brief feeling of suspicion that passed through him. It wasn't that Desmond had ever expressed any interest in Claire in the way he was thinking of, but the two of them had hardly spent any time together. Why did Desmond suddenly care about her so much now? Had something been going on between the two of them that he wasn't aware of?

_No_, Charlie told himself, _don't doubt Claire's loyalty. _

Desmond seemed to be able to read Charlie's thoughts, because he quickly added, "Though I could never care abou' anyone as much as I love Penny. I care abou' Claire the way I would care abou' a sister, mate."

Charlie nodded. "Right," He replied, not knowing what else to say. "It's hard to believe that you can see the future, Des, but I do trust you. How do you see us dying? How many times has it…happened?"

Desmond bit his lip. He wanted to be completely honest with Charlie, so that he would know what he was up against, but it was…difficult. He didn't want to see Charlie's fierce, determined expression weaken when he was told how many times he had died in Desmond's flashes. Desmond couldn't stand being the bearer of bad news.

After a long pause that seemed to go on forever, Desmond spoke. "Three times I've seen ye both dyin'. The first time she was drownin' and when you went in to save her you drowned too."

Charlie flinched as Desmond recounted his flashes to him. First they had drowned. Charlie hated water. "Then?" He prompted nervously, his voice barely a whisper.

Desmond hesitated, as if unsure of how Charlie would take what he was going to say next. "And then ye were both walkin' and ye tripped and went over the edge of a cliff, only holdin' onto the ledge by ye're fingertips. She tried to pull ye back up, brother, but she wasn' strong enough, and she went over too."

Charlie made a face. He needed to know what the last flash had been about, but he didn't know if he could bear any more bad news.

Desmond continued, his tone apologetic and miserable. "And the last was that ye were both sittin' in the middle of the jungle, snortin' Heroin. And then all of a sudden Claire fell over and wasn' breathin' anymore. So ye took an extra large hit and killed ye'reself to be with her."

After a few minutes of silence, Charlie asked, "And these flashes haven't happened yet, have they?"

Desmond shook his head. "No. I dunno when, but soon, mate, Claire will go in the water and start to drown. But ye must let me save her, mate. Because ye will die if ye go in after her."

_Let __him__ save her? No way! Claire is mine and I won't let that drunk near her_, thought Charlie angrily. But then his common sense kicked in, and he realized that he had to do as Desmond had said, because the only thing worse than seeing Claire with another man would be being separated from her permanently. He shuddered at the thought, and decided that what the Scotsman was saying was really for the best. Charlie looked up into Desmond's eyes and nodded. "Yeah, alright," He muttered. He knew he sounded bitter, but that really couldn't be helped, now could it? "Like I said, I trust you, Desmond. You're my friend."

"Whenever Claire goes into the ocean or is doin' anythin' near it, ye'll make sure I'm nearby."

Charlie nodded. "Got it," He replied, scowling a bit. Desmond may be his friend, but that didn't mean he always wanted him around. And he had a feeling Claire would agree. Though he hadn't known what it was about, he hadn't forgotten the argument Desmond and Claire had had back when Aaron had still been alive. He had shown up and Claire hsd been shouting and Desmond had been shouting back. All in all, Charlie liked Desmond. They hadn't always gotten along, especially when Desmond had been drunk half the time, but Charlie liked him. He just wasn't so keen on letting him waltz into Claire's life.

"What if Claire dies?" Demanded Charlie, fear twisting his insides. It was a question he had been anxious to get an answer to since Desmond had properly explained the whole future seeing deal. "What if she dies and I live? What will I do then?"

"Tha's not possible, mate. Ye and Claire will either die together, or not at all. I'd prefer the latter," Desmond soothed him. More calm now, Charlie was able to ask his next question without too much anxiety in his tone. "Why d'you think you saw two extra flashes of us…dying, when the first flash hasn't happened yet?"

"I dunno, Charlie. It's not somethin' I'm goin' to research. Now, on to the second flash. Don't go walkin' through the jungle with Claire without me. If I'm busy, don' go at all."

Charlie agreed more quickly this time. He was willing to cut the afternoon walks he and Claire (and Aaron, he realized with a jolt) had taken since they'd first begun to share a tent together, out of their daily ritual in order to keep her safe.

"And on to the third flash. Charlie, ye've got to stop usin'. It's going to kill ye and ye're girl." Charlie swallowed hard. His Heroin addiction wasn't something he was entirely comfortable to discuss with Desmond, no matter how much he trusted the man. Charlie had not forgotten being completely humiliated by that git Locke when he hadn't been using at all. How would the rest of the castaways react if both he _and _Claire were addicted? _No, that's not right_, he reminded himself, _Claire's stopped. It's only me who's still sneaking fixes. _

And with the thought that Claire might die because of his ignorance and weakness (The fact that he was using would no doubt tempt her to start again. And he had a feeling he wouldn't be able to hide his addiction the way he had done before) he resolved to quit Heroin once and for all. It had been his fault that Claire had been kidnapped by Ethan; he hadn't been strong enough to fight him off. He hadn't been able to protect her from himself; physically he hadn't hurt her. He would never, ever have. But he knew that he had broken her heart that night when he had acted like a freaking lunatic and stolen Aaron. And Charlie hadn't been able to protect Aaron from the dangers of the world; he had been taken from right under his nose. He hadn't been able to protect Claire from the grief that was caused by her son's death.

So he'd quit. He woudn't ever touch the stuff again, and he would stop thinking about it right now. Charlie turned back to Desmond, who was looking at him strangely.

"Ye alrigh', brother?" Questioned the Scotsman uncomfortably, patting him on the back awkwardly. Charlie nodded. "Thanks to you, I think I will be. And Claire too." Charlie attempted to speak around the lump in his throat, but his words came out a squeak. "And I think that if…Aaron was still alive, with your help, he would have been okay too." Tears gathered in Charlie's eyes and he wept pitieously.

Desmond watched Charlie cry, feeling incredibly uneasy. It was because of him that Aaron was dead, after all. A week ago he had had a flash of Aaron dying. _God seems to have it in for these people_, he thought, remembering that day. He had tried to prevent the accident that had happened involving the vaccine in the pneumatic injector, but he hadn't helped at all. Aaron was still dead; Claire and Charlie were still heartbroken. He should have tried harder.

Desmond was suddenly overwhelmed with incredible guilt. He hadn't realized before, but it had been building up inside him since that day. How could he get rid of this horrid feeling inside? He did the only thing he could think of; he confessed.

"Charlie, I have to tell ye something," He began nervously, not making eye contact.

"Yeah?" Replied Charlie, his voice a quiet rasp.

"It's…my fault. It's because of me that Aaron's dead. Ye know tha' day I had the confrontation with Claire?"

Charlie frowned. "…Yes. But I don't see what that's got to do with Aaron's death, Des."

"Jus' listen," The Scotsman pleaded. "I had a flash, earlier tha' day, about Aaron. Tha's what the argument was abou' between Claire and I; I was tryin' to save Aaron withou' lettin' her in on my visions. She got upset and ye came along. I should have tried harder. I'm sorry, mate."

Whatever Desmond had expected, he hadn't expected what happened next. Before he knew it, he was on the ground, a furious Charlie on top of him, punching every inch of him that he could reach.

"You bastard!" Charlie yelled. "You absolutely bastard, why didn't you tell us?! Why didn't you tell me, so that I could have helped?! You could have saved him!"

Desmond attempted to shove Charlie off of him, but his efforts proved futile. Though Desmond was no doubt bigger and most likely stronger than him, Charlie was fuelled by the grief and anger running through his veins. He was stronger because of these emotions. "Charlie!" Desmond shouted in disbelief, "Let me go!"

Charlie's yells turned into sobs. "How could you?!" He wailed. "I thought you were my friend! I trusted you!" He was strangling Desmond now.

Desmond struggled for breath as Charlie's raging hands blocked his airways. "Charlieee," He wheezed, clawing at the man throttling him without managing to get him off. He could feel Charlie's teardrops falling onto his face and running down his cheeks, as if it were him who was crying.

Suddenly Charlie was lifted off of him, and he heard a voice that wasn't his or the Englishman's. "What do you think you are doing?!" Cried a familiar voice with a thick Iraqi accent.

"He lied! He lied to me, Sayid!" Charlie sobbed. Desmond looked up to see Charlie, reaching out to grab him, being restrained by Sayid. Charlie's knuckles were covered in blood and his eyes were ablaze with fury and incredible sadness at the same time.

"What is he talking about, Desmond?" Questioned Sayid, still restraining Charlie.

Desmond forced himself to his feet, swaying slightly. His lack of oxygen had made him extremely dizzy. "N-nothin'," He panted, still out of breath, "We had an-an argument."

Sayid stared at Desmond disbelievingly. "Please do not insult my intelligence, Desmond," He said coldly. "I can obviously tell that the two of you had an argument. I would like to know what it was about."

Desmond took in a few deep breaths, thinking furiously. He couldn't tell Sayid about his flashes; Sayid would then tell the rest of the survivors and everyone would think he was crazy. And he could only imagine the looks they would give him if they found out it was because of him that Aaron was dead, that Claire was so broken. So he simply said, "Charlie came here for a fix; he's back on Heroin. I tried to stop him takin' it, and he got angry."

Sayid looked down at Charlie, who was still making pathetic attempts to escape the Iraqi's clutches and get at Desmond again. "Is this true, Charlie?"

Charlie shook his head wildly. He was still crying. "No! He-he l-lied to me, he was having flashes and he k-killed Aaron!"

Sayid returned his gaze to Desmond, searching him. "He's not well," Said Desmond in response to what Charlie had told the soldier. "He managed to take a fix even when I was tryin' to stop him. And then he got all mad when I said tha' Aaron wouldn' have wanted his Dad to be a Junkie, and started attackin' me."

Sayid seemed to believe what Desmond was saying. "Very well," He responded, nodding solemnly. "I will get Jack."

He searched Charlie's face until he was looking him in the eye. "Can I trust you to stay put and away from Desmond, Charlie? If I leave you here, will you leave Desmond alone?"

Charlie hated the way Sayid was speaking to him; as if he was a crazy person in an asylum who had been acting out. But he nodded nonetheless, not able to utter a word without sobbing. Tentatively, Sayid released him. He seemed to think Charlie would immediately start attacking Desmond again, but Charlie simply staggered a few steps and then sunk to the ground, his back leaned against Jack's medical tent.

Watching the scene for a few seconds, Sayid seemed to think Charlie wouldn't break his agreement, and hurried off to find the doctor. When he was gone, Desmond turned to his friend. He looked so broken; his skin would have been luminously pale had it not been for the grime that coated it. His eyes were watery and bloodshot, and there were dark circles beneath them. Desmond hadn't noticed before, but Charlie was much skinnier now, too. The grey hoodie he always seemed to be wearing was much looser on his tiny frame than it had been a week ago, and come to think of it, Desmond couldn't remember the last time he'd seen him eat. He sighed and sat down a few feet away from Charlie, just to be safe.

"I'm so sorry, brother," He apologized, full of remorse. "It was the only way to keep me flashes a secret. Ye understand, righ'?"

Charlie didn't answer right away. He sobbed some more, and only when Desmond thought he was never going to, he replied, "So telling lies about me, humiliating me, is better than people thinking you're a bit of a nutter?" He asked. He then chuckled humourlessly. "You're a pal, Desmond."

* * *

**A/N: Please comment on the chapter, I hope it was enjoyable. Thanks for reading! Yes, it was pretty angsty :D**

**xox Sacha**


	18. Chapter 18 Heartbeat

**A/N: Man, I've been updating a lot lately! Mostly because I'm bored, I guess. Please review!**

* * *

Time to Let Go:

Claire didn't feel any different. It wasn't like when she took a hit of Heroin, when she got worked up almost immediately. But right now, she felt exactly the same way she had always felt after using the vaccine.

She didn't know what she had expected. She was about to take out the pneumatic injector and try again when she heard shouting. She slid off the bed and exited the tent to see what was going on.

She saw Sayid sprinting toward Jack, who was examining Sun, asking her questions about her pregnancy. Sayid murmured something inaudible and then the two of them were off running in the direction of Jack's medical tent.

Claire watched their retreating forms for a moment before walking toward Hurley, who was spending time with Jin.

"Hey, Hurley," Claire greeted him. When he turned toward her his happy smile faltered a bit, but he forced himself to stay cheerful. "Hey, Claire!"

Claire mentally kicked herself. She had completely forgotten about her argument with Hurley. She wished she could apologize for the way she had acted, but she could sense that he didn't really want to talk about it, so she followed his lead and acted as if nothing had happened.

"What's going on?" She asked him.

Hurley looked much more serious now. He took her aside from everyone else and told her, "Dude, there was some kind of situation with Charlie and Desmond. I think they got in a fight or something."

"What kind of fight?" Asked Claire worriedly. "Is Charlie hurt?!"

Hurley hesitated for a moment before replying, "Actually, I think Charlie got the better end of the deal. Maybe you should go with them," He nodded at the place Sayid and Jack had just disappeared from. "You can like, calm him down, Dude."

Claire did as was suggested. She ran as quickly as she could to Jack's medical tent.

**With Charlie…**

Charlie refused to look Jack in the eyes. He felt so weak; not for giving in to his urge to beat the crap out of Desmond, no. He felt physically weak. Charlie had had the element of surprise to his advantage, but Desmond had been able to get a few good punches in, no matter the fact that Charlie had still done more harm to Desmond than the latter had done to him. Charlie hadn't realized it until then, but he wasn't very healthy. His face was all angles because the sharp edges of his cheekbones stuck out, and if you lifted his shirt you could easily see the indentations of his ribs.

"Charlie, what happened?" Jack was crouched in front of him, speaking to him as if he didn't understand English.

"I thought you'd already gotten all of your info from _him_," He snorted, shooting Desmond a venomous glare. Desmond recoiled slightly.

"Yeah. Sayid repeated what Desmond told him to me, but I want to hear your side. What happened?"

Charlie laughed mirthlessly. "So what I have to say counts now, does it?"

"Charlie. Please."

Charlie opened his mouth to tell Jack what had happened, when Desmond's eyes caught his. Desmond was giving him a pleading look-very uncharacteristic for the Scotsman. Charlie thought it was pathetic.

_This man that I thought was my friend killed Aaron_, he thought. _Why should I lie for him?_

But Charlie didn't want to hurt Desmond. He had earlier. But not anymore. He just wanted to have done with him, to be left alone by him. In fact, he wanted to be left alone by everyone. Except Claire. He wished she were here with him. He knew she was only a few minutes down the beach, but she felt so far away.

So Charlie lied. Jack looked disappointed that Charlie had begun using again, and a bit angry that he had "attacked Desmond without provocation", but he seemed to understand.

"Heroin screws people up, Charlie. Please stop. If you don't do it for yourself, do it for Claire. I don't think she'll be able to stand going through that again." Charlie suddenly recalled that Jack did not know that Claire had used. It felt like such a long time ago he had stolen a few extra Advils to help her through her withdrawal, when it had really happened that very day.

Charlie nodded. "You're right. Sorry."

Jack helped Charlie up and patted his back amicably. "You're a good guy, Charlie. You can do this."

Charlied nodded and left. He could tell Sayid was expecting him to apologize to Desmond for what he had supposedly done, but no way was that happening. He just wanted to get away from his supposed "friend". And to think they had been discussing Desmond saving his life just an hour earlier.

While he was walking back to the tent he shared with Claire, he bumped into her. "Charlie! I heard you got into a fight with Desmond!" She cried. He nodded.

"Why?" She asked incredulously.

"Can we talk about it later?" He responded flatly. A hurt expression flitted across her features before she quickly pushed it away. "Absolutely," She told him, forcing a smile.

"No offense, Charlie, but you look horrible," She commented lightly as she surveyed him, forcing cheerfulness into her tone. She took in the black eye, the bloody lip, and the bruise across his cheek, but knew Desmond must look much worse from what Hurley had told her. Charlie chuckled. "And how's your knuckle? I'm not sure that beating up Desmond has really made it any better, am I right?" She questioned teasingly.

Charlie nodded. "You know I love you, right?" he asked her abruptly. She smiled genuinely this time. "I know I haven't said it often to you, but for the record, I love you too."

After Claire had cleaned him up, Charlie staggered over to the bed and plopped down onto it, falling asleep almost instantly. Claire chuckled quietly and bent before him to untie his shoes and remove them. The events of the day had exhausted her too, and though it was only about eight o'clock, she decided she might as well join him in slumber. She crawled onto the bed and laid her head on his chest. She closed her eyes and listened to his heartbeat. But something was off. Something was wrong. For some reason, Charlie's heartbeat was slower than usual. Claire shot up, her eyes wide with worry. She had to tell Jack. What if something was seriously wrong with her Charlie? She slipped out of the bed and was about to look for the doctor when she was overcome with exhaustion. She stumbled out of the tent, barely able to keep her eyes open. It was dark and though the moon was giving off more than enough light for her to be able to see where she was going and she could still hear the whoops of laughter from the main beach, she felt more alone than ever. After a couple minutes walking tiredly, she arrived at her destination.

She burst into his tent without asking and saw that he was sorting through his things. He looked up when he heard her enter. "Claire," He greeted her cautiously. He didn't know what would and wouldn't set the woman to tears.

"Something's wrong with Charlie," She told him hurriedly. "His heart isn't beating the way it should. Jack, I think something's seriously wrong."

Jack grabbed his first aid kit and stood up. "Okay. Let's go."

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for the shortness. Please review. Hope everyone was in character!**

**xox Sacha**


	19. Chapter 19 Half Truths and Tears

**A/N: Thank you for the lovely reviews! Mwah! Another chapter. Ideas are welcomed, reviews insisted upon ;) Yes, I am aware Desmond has been OOC :D **

* * *

Time to Let Go:

Claire half dragged Jack back to her tent. Something was wrong with her Charlie, and no way was she going to lose him like she'd lost Aaron. All in all, Claire thought she was doing well for a mother who's baby had died only a week ago. She was still sad most of the time, but the Heroin was helping, as was Charlie's company. But if Charlie died as well, Claire might as well end her life, because she would have nothing to live for.

Jack crouched in front of Charlie, flashing the bright beam of his flashlight in the man's face. This caused him to stir.

"Wha's goin' on?" He mumbled sleepily, rubbing his eyes. Claire hadn't known she had been holding her breath until she exhaled noisily with relief. He was alright. For now, anyway.

"Charlie?" She called gently, kneeling in front of the bed he was lying on. "Are you okay, love?"

Charlie pushed himself with a groan. His muscles were still quite sore from his fight with Desmond. Just as Aaron's name caused tears to pool in his eyes, Desmond's made him scowl.

"What do you mean?" He asked her, confusion etched onto his sleepy features. He yawned loudly, his jaw stretching open wide. "Why wouldn't I be alright?"

"Just," Claire hesitated, "Your heartbeat wasn't normal. It was much slower, more drawn out."

"Do you check my heartbeat often?" He kidded, trying to turn the whole thing into a joke.

Claire rolled her eyes. "No. I was worried about you; you would have done the same for me!"

Charlie laughed. "Of course I would have. But I'm fine, Claire." He saw her unconvinced expression and took her hand in his, squeezing it comfortingly. "I promise."

Claire nodded. She knew that there was no way of knowing whether or not he could keep this promise, but she also knew she wasn't going to get any more out of him tonight. She turned to Jack, who was watching them unashamedly. "I think the irregular heartbeat has to do with the fix Charlie took today."

Claire frowned and turned to Charlie. "You used? When?" Jack, sensing that an argument might ensue, quickly assured Claire that Charlie would be alright, that a slower heartbeat was common in Heroin addicts ("I'm not an addict!") and told her to come wake him up immediately if anything changed for the worst. When he had left, Claire turned and glared at Charlie furiously, her hands on her hips.

"I can't believe you!" She spat. "You were all for pressuring me to quit, and you sneak off and use while my back's turned?"

"It wasn't like that," Muttered Charlie, feeling rather uncomfortable. "I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to continue just because I do!"

"Charlie, we've been over this! I never really agreed with your opinion that we should stop, I just went along with it because I thought you would have quit with me. To find that you've kept using without telling me means that you think that it won't do you any harm. And if it's okay for you to use, than its okay for me!"

Charlie sighed deeply. "I never said it was okay for me," He muttered, holding his arms open for her. Despite the fact that she was angry with him, Claire climbed onto the bed and leaned into him, her back to his chest and his chin against her hair.

"Weren't the Aspirins helping at all?" She questioned, her voice shaking. She felt hurt that he had lied to her and used without her knowing; sure, she had been planning the same thing, but she hadn't gone through with it. _That's because you didn't get the chance,_ her conscience scolded her.

"No. The Advils weren't working…And I hate to admit it, but I couldn't stay away. I'm sorry, Claire," He murmured, dipping his head to kiss her neck.

Claire sighed sadly. "Its okay, Charlie. I forgive you. I would have done the same thing if I were you. As you know I don't want to stop using."

Charlie sighed against her throat. "Please, Claire-"

"Charlie, listen to me please. I know you want to protect me, but I don't need to be protected. Heroin has done nothing but help me; it makes me feel so much better about everything that has happened. Please don't make me go on without it." The pain in Claire's voice made Charlie clutch her tighter. No matter how much he loved Claire, he would rather that she hate him than that she were hurt. Desmond (he shuddered at the mention of the man who had betrayed him) had said that they would either die together or wouldn't die at all. Would it be possible for Claire to remain alive and healthy, using Heroin, if he stopped? He still didn't want her using, but if she was going to do it behind her back anyway, wouldn't it be better if he knew about it? So, grudgingly, he conceded.

"I love you Claire. I want you to be happy. Use if you want to, but please, please be careful."

Claire twisted her neck and pecked Charlie on the temple. "Thank you, Charlie. You don't know how much this means to me. I love you so much." Her tone was incredibly grateful, like the time he had rescued Aaron and returned him to her. She had been so happy with him then that she had kissed him on the cheek, making him beam. "How are you feeling?"

"I feel fine. A bit sore from fighting with Desmond," He growled the last part.

"Are you going to explain what happened today?"

Charlie sighed. He had known he would have to tell her eventually, but he had hoped it wouldn't be so soon. "I'll tell you everything."

**30 minutes later…**

"You believe me, don't you?" Charlie asked Claire softly, stroking her hair as she cried into his chest. A few tears were falling from his eyes as well. He had just recounted everything of his day from that morning when he had snuck into Jack's tent for a fix to that afternoon when he had bumped into her on the walk back to the main beach.

"Y-yes," She sobbed, her voice muffled. "I c-can't believe he w-would do this to us!"

Charlie felt like searching Desmond out to beat him up all over again. But he resisted the urge and instead kissed her collar bone, her shoulder, and the crook of her elbow. "I know," He said, his voice sad. "I can't even describe how much I want to kill that bastard."

"And I th-thought he cared about us," She sniffled. "But really he k-killed him. He killed Aaron, Charlie!" And then she was howling with misery again.

Charlie squeezed her tighter. "I miss him so, so much," Claire bawled, tears streaming down her face. Charlie nodded, a painful lump in his throat "I miss him too, Claire. He was so small, and he was yours…He didn't deserve to die."

"He was yours too, Charlie. You were practically a father to him." And before she knew it, Charlie was kissing her with such passion she felt her heart melt. He loved her. She loved him. All that was missing was Aaron. And because of Desmond he was gone forever.

Charlie's hands wound through her hair and cradled her head, supporting it. She didn't know how much it had meant to him that she thought of him as a father to Aaron. Or close to. She pressed closer to him, her hands resting feather light upon his chest. Their tongues tangled together, and Claire and Charlie could both taste each other's tears.

Claire pulled away from Charlie only to brush her lips against his multiple times. These kisses were softer; sweeter, somehow, despite the salty edge of despair and grief.

Claire pulled away again and snuggled into Charlie's chest, crying in hushed sobs. "And what about the whole flashes thing?" She asked him.

"He'd better take care of you; he owes me that. And when the whole thing is over, we won't have to have anything to do with him."

Claire nodded, wiping her eyes. "Right," She croaked. "And he owes it to me to keep _you _safe."

Charlie hadn't told Claire about the last flash; just the first two. He knew that if he stopped using Heroin, then she could continue without her being harmed (not as much as dying instantly, anyway). So he didn't see the point in making her worry about him going through withdrawal again. He would simply say that he didn't want to use anymore, but that he would love her no matter what, if she asked. He would say that after everything it had put him through, he was put off Heroin. He wasn't sure if she would believe him, but that was what he would say.

They fell asleep quickly. Something inside of Claire (something that really cared about Charlie) would automatically wake her up every hour to check on him. It was strange; she had thought she could never care for anyone as much as she had loved her darling little boy, but Charlie was on his way up there.

**An hour earlier with Desmond… **

Desmond sat in the darkness of his tent, staring at the photograph of him and Penny. She would be so ashamed of him if she knew what he had done. _He _was ashamed of him. Tears pooled in his eyes, but he wouldn't let them fall. No matter how sorrowful he was feeling right now, he couldn't cry. He would shed tears only for his love, his girl. Penny.

Now that he thought about it, he really should have told Charlie and Claire about his vision with Aaron. It was his job. And now Aaron was dead (_Because of you_, his conscience screamed,) and neither Charlie nor Claire would ever forgive him. He didn't deserve their kindness, anyway.

He had been looking at the picture for a while, when he heard commotion. He heard Claire shouting something and running feet rushing past his tent. Then he heard the questioning voices of other survivors wondering what was going on.

He exited his tent and looked around. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. What had happened? Was someone hurt? Claire had been shouting. Did she have something to do with it?

About ten minutes later Desmond could see Jack walking back from Charlie and Claire's tent, his first aid kit in hand. "Wha' happened, brother?" He demanded, walking beside the doctor.

"Claire thought something was seriously wrong with Charlie. His heart has been acting strangely. It's because of the Heroin."

"Wha'?!" The Scotsman exclaimed. "Is he alrigh'?"

Jack nodded. "He'll be fine. I don't think he'll die over night or anything." "Thanks, brother," Replied Desmond. He then turned around and started to go to their tent when he was stopped by Jack's hand on his shoulder. He turned around. "What is it?"

"I don't think Charlie and Claire are up to seeing people right now," He said a bit uncomfortably.

Desmond shook his head. "It's really important tha' I'm there, Jack."

"It's not so important that you can't wait until morning," Jack contradicted him. "They need to be alone right now."

"I need to talk to them. It's not somethin' ye could understan'!"

"Look, they don't want to see you, Desmond! I think you need to give the two of them some space. After what happened today, I don't think you're Charlie's favourite person right now."

Desmond nodded, his mouth set into a grim line. "Right. Okay, then. Goodnigh', brother."

"Goodnight."

As Desmond returned to his tent, he told himself that he could live with speaking to Charlie and the Australian the next day. But he couldn't help worrying about how they would feel of his presence.

* * *

**A/N: Please review! I promise I will make up for the way Desmond was a jerk the last chapters! Sorry everyone was OOC!**

**xox Sacha**


	20. Chapter 20 Junkie Like

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews. If you don't understand something just ask in a review or you can PM me. Enjoy! **

Dreams, thoughts, and flashbacks are in _Italics_. You'll be able to tell the difference.

* * *

Time to Let Go:

It took a lot of effort from Charlie to not go for a fix that morning when he woke up. He was halfway to Jack's tent when he remembered that because Claire was going to continue snorting Heroin, he would have to stop. He sighed, defeated. He cared about Claire much more than Heroin. He wouldn't give in to his urge to use.

He returned to the tent to find Claire sitting up in bed, holding the pneumatic injector pressed to her shoulder.

"So you decided to use it?" He asked her lightly, sitting on the bed beside her.

She smiled at him distractedly. "Uh, yeah. Figured I might as well," She lied. She was still experimenting with the vaccine. Later on she would steal some antibiotics from Jack and use the vaccine again. Thinking about her plan, she decided that that was how she would use the drugs every day. She would take on pill and use the vaccine twice daily and then she would find out whether it was her fault or not that Aaron had died.

"Do you want to use it?" Claire asked him, holding out the pneumatic injector after she was done with it. Charlie shook his head. "Thanks, but no thanks, love."

"Sure," She replied. "I'm going for a fix. Are you coming?"

Charlie nodded. "Yeah, but not for the Heroin. I'm quitting."

"Why?" She questioned him, frowning. "Is it because of your health?"

"No. Just…after all it's put me through, I'm kind of put off Heroin. My body still needs it, but I don't really want to use anymore." He flashed a nervous grin.

Claire smiled back gently. "I support your decision, Charlie. It will be better for your health, in any case."

Charlie wanted to retort that it would be better for her health if she quit too, but held his tongue. He knew that she wouldn't listen to him, and he couldn't see the point in starting an argument first thing in the morning.

Claire rummaged through her suitcase and changed into the cleanest clothing she could find; a ripped up pair of jeans and a purple T-shirt. She wasn't one hundred percent sure if the clothing were hers or not, but she thought the jeans were a bit familiar. She vaguely remembered packing a pair of ripped jeans for her trip to Los Angeles and wondering if she shouldn't bring them in case she still didn't fit into them after she gave birth and handed her baby to the adoptive parents. But she wasn't sure if they were the same pants.

While Claire got dressed, Charlie grabbed some fresh clothing and went to change in the jungle. Claire was quite shy about changing in front of Charlie. The most the two had done together was kiss, which Charlie didn't think was bad at all. Claire wasn't quite ready to go any further than that at the moment. The first time she had ever had sex she had gotten pregnant and the father of her unborn child had left her. She knew Charlie would never leave her, but she didn't want to replace Aaron, either. Sex was unimportant when compared to her son's death and Heroin. Charlie wasn't impatient. He would wait as long as was needed until Claire was ready. And sex was the last thing on his mind, too.

Afterward, the two of them walked hand in hand to Jack's tent. Charlie would get some medication for his withdrawal, and while Jack was distracted Claire would take the Heroin. Charlie didn't feel wonderful about tricking Jack, but if wasn't like he had never stolen from the doctor before. He could deal with it.

"Hey, Jack," He greeted the doctor when they had arrived. Jack looked up from what he was doing and nodded. "You're here for your painkillers? How have you been feeling?"

"I've been feeling fine, really. My body doesn't know it's going through withdrawal yet."

Jack looked through his things until he found the painkillers. He twisted open the cap and shook two of the white pills into his hand, which he then handed to Charlie. "Well, we'll get a head start with the process," He said. "Come find me tonight, I'll give you some more."

While Jack's attention had been focused on Charlie, Claire had pretended to browse through Jack's medication. "What's this?" She asked, holding up a plastic bottle labeled Melatonin. Jack turned his head to see what she was holding and replied, "That's an all natural pill that helps you sleep."

Claire nodded thoughtfully. "Hmm." She replaced the plastic bottle in the bag of medication, and when Jack was not looking in her direction, slipped the baggie of Heroin (which was in the medication bag as well) into her pocket, and then unscrewed a random bottle of prescription antibiotics and quickly swallowed two of the pills. Silently, she urged Charlie to hurry. He could read her thoughts in her eyes and obliged grudgingly. He wasn't too excited for her to take her fix. When Jack had bid them goodbye, they walked hand in hand through the jungle until they came to a clearing with beautiful purple flowers. Charlie sat down in the grass and Claire settled down beside him, her leg pressed against his, his hand clasped in hers.

"It's going to be strange seeing you use," He told her. "I've never actually seen you doing it."

Claire smiled gently at him and squeezed his hand. "Its okay, Charlie. You don't have to watch if you don't want."

Charlie chuckled. "I'll be fine, Claire." She nodded and dug through her pocket for the baggie. Once she had retrieved it she pulled the elastic band off and scooped a small portion into her hand. Once she had straightened the powder into a line instead of a jumble, she brought her hand to her face and snorted the substance. Charlie cringed as he watched. It seemed so bizarre to see Claire acting so…Junkie-like. Claire's hand hovered in the air before her face for a few moments before she dropped it to her side with a wide smile. She chuckled at Charlie's dumbfounded expression. "What? Are you expecting me to start babbling some random nonsense?" She giggled, nudging him on the shoulder jokingly.

Charlie rolled his eyes, but grinned back. "Kind of, I guess. I'm not used to seeing you so mellow after a fix."

"Well," She replied, "It hasn't really taken much effect yet. But slowly I'm getting better at controlling my actions while stoned."

Charlie nodded. "That's good. You weren't so conspicuous before."

"Oh, shut up!" Teased Claire, laughing. Charlie could see her pupils slowly blow up until her eyes looked black. She sighed contentedly and leaned back, staring up at the sky. "I feel so weird," She chuckled, her laugh strangely drawn out. "Everything is echoing and my bones feel all spongy!" Charlie chortled and lay down as well. "You're beautiful; you know that, Ms. Littleton?" He questioned suddenly.

Claire blinked lazily. "Well thank you," She drawled, imitating his English accent. "You're quite handsome yourself, Mr. Pace."

He figured he could live like this. When Claire was happy it automatically made him in a good mood. As long as he kept away from it, she could use. And maybe they would be able to overcome their grief from Aaron's death more quickly. He still wasn't completely happy about it, but he could tolerate her using. He loved her, after all.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for the shortness, I'm pretty tired. Hope you all enjoyed. Sorry if it was OOC.**

**xox Sacha**


	21. Chapter 21 Majority Rules

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews! Here's another chapter, I'm so sorry for the long wait! It was a bit difficult for me to write this completely in Desmond's POV, but hopefully I did okay. This is mostly a filler chapter, I actually really hate it!**

Dreams and flashbacks are in _Italics_. You'll be able to tell the difference.

Time to Let Go:

Desmond rose early that morning. No matter what Jack said, no matter whether they hated him or not, he was determined to give his most sincere apologies to Charlie and Claire. He couldn't live with having someone actually want to kill him.

Thinking that Jack would probably know what he was up to, Desmond did not ask him where Charlie and Claire were, though he would most likely be the one to know. Instead he approached Hurley.

"Hey Hurley, do ye know were Charlie and Claire have gone?" Asked the Scotsman.

Hurley turned and did a double take. "Dude! I know you got in a fight with Charlie yesterday, but I thought you would have been the winner, you being more macho and all!"

Desmond resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He could just imagine what he looked like; a black eye, a fat lip, maybe a cut cheek from Charlie's ring.

"Yeah, welll, I wasn' the winner of the fight. Now, do ye know where they 'ave gone?" He repeated irritably.

Hurley shook his head. "Nah, dude, sorry. Me and Charlie haven't been talking much lately. I haven't been getting along with Claire too much either..." Hurley looked upset. Charlie had been his best friend up until a few days ago and he had always liked Claire.

Desmond nodded absentmindedly. "Right. Well, if ye see them let them know I'm lookin' for 'em."

Without waiting for an answer Desmond left. He wasn't sure that Hurley really would inform Charlie and Claire of this if he saw them, but he wasn't going to stand there and pester the man when he could be apologizing to Charlie and Claire.

Desmond scanned the beach but he didn't really think that the couple would be there. He was right, the Aussie and Englishman were no where in sight.

As he passed Desmond noticed that the inhabitants of the island were staring. They were probably just curious as to how he'd gotten his cuts and bruises, but they're glances still unnerved him. Was it possible that they knew about his flashes? Was he really so obvious?

_Ye're bein' ridiculous, _Desmond chided himself, _How could anyone know? It's not like ye went aroun' shoutin' it to the heavens._

Finally, after hours of searching through the jungle, Desmond came across a clearing filled with purple flowers. And lying among these flowers were none other than Charlie and Claire.

Desmond approached the two of them warily. Neither of them glanced up until he cleared his throat nervously. Then all of a sudden Claire's all ready incredibly round eyes widened.

Charlie asked her what was wrong in a murmur and when she responded he jumped to his feet. "What are you doing here?!" He spat venomously. "I figured you weren't so dumb that you would come back after I clearly told you that you weren't wanted."

Claire sat up, watching the two of them with a concerned glance. "Charlie," She whispered, reaching for his hand. She looked afraid of Desmond. He resented that.

Charlie turned his head. "It's all right, Claire. I'll take care of him." He glared at the Scotsman.

Desmond sighed. "I guess I deserved that one," He muttered.

"You think?" Bit Charlie sharply. His fists were clenched so hard his knuckles had turned white.

"I came here to apologize."

"Keep it. You don't care."

"I do care! I _do_!"

"Yeah right!" Claire snapped suddenly. She had gathered her courage and pulled herself to her feet so that she was standing before Charlie, her hands on her hips. Her voice softened. "How could you betray us that way, Desmond? How could you let my...baby..._die_?"

Charlie wrapped his arms around Claire's shoulders as she turned to sob into his chest. "Do you see what you've done? Do you not see how much you've broken her?"

Desmond shuddered. The guilt was clawing at him and making him feel as if he had swallowed a brick that had fallen with a thud to the bottom of his stomach. "I'm sorry," He whispered. "I did all I could."

Charlie stared coldly. "I don't believe that. I do believe that you didn't mean to kill Aaron, but I do not believe that you did all you could have. You should have told us!"

Desmond surged with frustration. He needed to make sure that Charlie would not ignore his warnings about the flashes just because he hated him. He needed to keep the two of them, Charlie and Claire, _safe_. He owed them that much.

"Listen to me! I don' care whether ye like me or not, I'm sorry and now I need to keep ye both safe! Charlie, did ye tell Claire about my visions?"

Charlie spoke grudgingly. "...Yes."

"Are ye goin' to follow the plan we made to keep ye both safe or not?"

"Do I look like I want to die? Yes, you _will _be keeping Claire safe." Charlie scowled as he said this.

Normally Desmond would have retorted snarkily to a comment like this, but he didn't want to make Charlie even more angry. "Yeah, I will. Now ye know the rules; no swimmin' alone, no walks through the jungle like this one, and no more Heroin. Ye got that?" Desmond gave Claire a meaningful look.

"Yeah, we've got it. Now let's get out of here, and then don't expect us to be speaking to you again."

**A/N: I really hate the way this chapter turned out, but it's 3:00 in the morning so I'm quite tired. Please review!**

**xox Sacha**


	22. Chapter 22 It's Us Against The World

**A/N: IMPORTANT, PLEASE READ!!! I'm not sure the e-mail notifying everyone that the last chapter was up was sent, so please check that you've read chapter 20 before reading this one! PLEASE.**

* * *

Time to Let Go:

As Desmond stalked off in a huff Charlie helped Claire to her feet. It caused him pain in his broken knuckles but it wasn't anything he couldn't live with.

"Charlie, what's gonna happen?" Claire's words were slurred, unlike earlier when they had been clear and sharp. "He's not here to harm anyone else, is he?"

Charlie pasted on a fake smile. "Who, Desmond? Nah, he won't bother us too much. Now, let's get back to the beach, all right?"

Claire nodded and began walking when she was overcome by a fit of nausea and was forced to kneel and throw up. Charlie rubbed her back soothingly. "Ah, you see love, that's what you get for using. I wish you weren't in pain."

Claire wiped her mouth and smiled up at him. "Oh, I'm all right! And anyway, I bet it hurts more to go through withdrawal, am I right?" She beamed and Charlie wondered what she was so giddy about.

"Well, we could have a whole discussion about this, but let's just drop it for right now. Why are you so disoriented all of a sudden? You were fine two minutes ago…"

Claire daren't admit it, but she had a feeling the effects of the vaccine and the Heroin were mixing together. To be truthful, she was rather glad of this. Now she could find the answer to the question she'd been asking herself since Aaron had first died.

After being pulled to her feet again, Claire and Charlie made their way back to the beach. Charlie was under the impression that Desmond would want to speak with the two of them again, no matter how much they didn't want to, so he wanted to sober Claire as much as possible beforehand.

After holding onto a staggering Claire so that she wouldn't topple over for a good fifteen minutes, her and Charlie arrived, and she quickly darted into the tent for a drink from the water bottle.

"Claire, you all right?" Charlie called after her, following her into the tent just in time to see her pass out on the bed. He gave a worried frown and sat down beside her unconscious body, pressing the back of his hand to her forehead and cheeks. She was burning up.

Feeling sick with concern he shook her by the shoulders gently. "Claire, wake up now." He called softly. After a few moments of this he continued on, shaking her more roughly, "Claire! Claire, wake up!"

The dread that had been building inside him since she had first started vomiting explode and he was sprinting to Jack's tent as fast as he could, much like Claire had when his heart had stopped beating, though Charlie didn't know this.

He was halfway there when he realized he was being stupid. Desmond had said that neither of them would die unless they both did. And the Heroin death scene would come after the other two. …But could Charlie really trust Desmond's word? Desmond was a liar and a drunk and a psycho. But though he would never admit it to anyone, something in Charlie still trusted the Scotsman.

Charlie turned around, cursing to himself that he would regret this later and that he ought to go to Jack anyway, just to make sure there wasn't anything severely wrong with Claire, he headed towards Desmond's tent. Desmond was sprawled across the sand inside staring at a photograph clutched in his hand when Charlie entered.

"Listen, you don't like me and I absolutely despise you, but I need you to come check on Claire for me," He said quickly when Desmond looked up at him.

Desmond felt like questioning why he should do as the Englishman said when they were enemies, but lifted himself off the ground and followed Charlie anyway. He didn't actually hate Charlie and didn't want that sweet Claire to be hurt.

Charlie led Desmond to the tent and sat beside Claire on the bed, one hand clutching hers protectively.

"Wha's wrong with her?" Asked Desmond, observing Claire's breathing. He was kneeled forward so close that he could have kissed the Aussie's neck had he wanted to. But a good punch in the face would be waiting for him if he did.

"I thought you could tell me that, that's why I fetched you after all," Replied Charlie curtly, frowning anxiously. He squeezed Claire's hand as if he expected her to squeeze his back.

Desmond continued to inspect Claire. "She won't die, brother. Ye remember wha' I told ye, don' ye?"

Charlie nodded, his chin jutted out defiantly. "How do I know that wasn't a load of rubbish?"

Desmond scowled. "I was tellin' the truth, mate," He growled. Charlie's frown deepened and he scooted even closer to Claire's side.

"Suppose you were. What's happening to her, then?"

Desmond shook his head. "Ye expect me ta know? Ye're crazy! Why didn' ye just go to the doctor?"

Charlie sighed deeply. "Because Jack doesn't know that Claire…uses. And I thought it best if things stayed that way."

Desmond gave Claire one last glance. "She won' die, if tha's what ye're wonderin'. Just soak a rag and put it on her forehead to cool her off and let her sleep. She seems fine."

Desmond turned to leave but stopped when Charlie caught him by the shoulder. "You better be right, you git," He warned in a low voice, sounding as serious as can be. "If anythin' happens to her I'll kill you. I'm not kidding. I will kill you."

Desmond narrowed his eyes and pushed Charlie's hand away. "Bugger off. An' people think I'm crazy!"

* * *

**A half hour later…**

Claire awoke and moaned as soon as she did. Her head was throbbing as if she had been hit repeatedly by a sledge hammer. She was about to cry out for Charlie when he placed a cool washcloth on her burning forehead.

"What happened?" Claire muttered hoarsely. "I really don't remember."

"We were on our way back from our walk when you started acting all strange. Once we had arrived you suddenly passed out." She looked up to see the relieved look on Charlie's face, which was mixed with a desperately concerned one. "I don't think you should use anymore."

Claire huffed angrily and sat up, which only made her head hurt more. "Charlie, we've been over this. You can't stop me, and you know it. Nobody can stop me."

Claire was acting a bit strange, and this made Charlie shiver with a fresh new wave of worry. It was probably just the Heroin talking. Claire wasn't some weirdo that thought that they could take over the universe and no one would stop them.

The Englishman sighed. "I could stop you, if I wanted to." As soon as he said it he knew it was a mistake.

Claire glared at him. "I don't think you heard me correctly. I said that no one could stop me. And I wasn't joking. You, Charlie Pace, can only try. But you will not succeed."

Charlie was taken aback with shock. Claire never acted this way, not even when she was stoned.

"I don't think you know what you're saying, Claire, but you are definitely not yourself. I think you're getting out of control." He tried to grasp her hand but she snatched it away before he had the chance.

"_You're_ not yourself, Charlie!" She all but hollered. Her tone softened slightly. "Don't you want me to be happy?"

"Claire, you know I do! Why else would I be trying to help you?"

Claire scooted away from him as far as she could. "Help me? Please," She laughed bitterly. "You're all against me, you all hate me! You wish that I had died instead of Aaron, don't you?!"

Charlie shook his head wildly, his eyes wide with shock. "No! Of course not, Claire, why would you even think that?!"

Claire scowled. "Why else would you try to get me to quit, huh?!" And then something seemed to dawn on her. "You just want more for yourself, don't you? That's right, you fed me a pack of lies about wanting to stay away from Heroin, but you were lying! You just want to be the one to use it!"

Charlie attempted to envelop her in an embrace, but Claire dug her fingernails into his arms. "Don't touch me!" She hissed, stumbling to her feet and marching off, not looking back.

And Charlie was left there all alone.

* * *

**A/N: Hopefully this one was better! Please review! Sorry Claire was so OOC, but this is fiction, and she is also very high on Heroin and painkillers and a strong vaccine. What is the lesson we've learned here? Don't mix Heroin, pain killers, and vaccine :P**

**xox Sacha**


	23. Chapter 23 Not a Knight in Shining Armor

**

* * *

**

A/N: Sorry for the wait, I feel so guilty! Hope everyone had a merry Christmas and a happy New Year. This is only a filler chapter, just to get me going. I would write more but there's school tommorow *groan* and I should go to bed. I'll write more soon, I swear.

**Disclaimer: I don't own Lost or any of its characters. **

* * *

"I'm such a bitch," Claire wept, her blue eyes sparkling with tears. "How could I have done that? To the man I love. God, and I really do love him." She ran her fingers through her unruly blond curls nervously. It wasn't the first time she realized this, but at the moment it rang strong and true. "I love Charlie."

"And I've done this kind of thing before, too. Who knows if he'll forgive me this time?"

Claire sighed and looked at the companion sitting next to her. She patted Vincent's shiny golden coat.

"Sometimes I feel like you're the only one that understands me. You're such a good listener."

She sure was acting silly. She knew that she was by the way people kept shooting half amused half worried glances at her. They probably thought she was losing it. If they asked Jack he would probably diagnose it as trauma induced stress and confusion or something of the like.

Well, she wasn't crazy. Though she might indeed be sick. She had thrown up earlier and right now the heat of the sun was making her surroundings spin. And her back ached and her head throbbed. Maybe she had the flu or something. Maybe she _should _go to Jack.

What had made Claire act like that toward Charlie? Now that she thought about it, he hadn't been doing or saying anything that would normally make her lash out at him. She was acting like a bloody lunatic.

Feeling a bit dazed, she pushed herself up off the ground and staggered toward the doctor's tent. Jack wasn't inside as she thought he would have been. So she decided to wait. Sitting down in the shade was heavenly, and without really thinking about it she stretched out on the ground and closed her eyes. She would hear Jack coming when he returned and then she could tell him her symptons.

She was asleep in seconds.

* * *

**With Charlie...**

Charlie felt stung. Angry, a bit. He wasn't a _total_ push over, after all. He had feelings. But he couldn't in all good conscience blame Claire for the way she was acting. It was his fault. He had introduced her to Junk (accidentally, but that didn't matter), he had let her keep using.

Okay, maybe Claire would have found a way to keep on using even without his knowledge and assistance. But then at least he wouldn't be responsible. Though the guilt and terror in his heart would remain the same.

Through all his emotions, Charlie felt despair. He was just so tired. He hardly ever ate anymore because he just didn't have an appetite. And was it just his deceiving soul, or was Claire having better luck dealing with Aaron's death than he was?

It was probably just him. Claire was the best thing he had in this world. Even if he were off the island, all he would care for would be her. He didn't want to screw it up with her again. Like the time she'd kicked him out of her tent for keeping Smack. Charlie thought it quite ironic that she was now hooked to the very stuff. Why did she like him, anyway? Well, she actually had said she loved him, but he didn't really think he was good enough for such an honour.

But really, why? He was a scum bag. He wasn't nearly enough for her. She was a goddess. She deserved a knight in shining armor. He couldn't think of anyone worthy enough for her, but he definitely wasn't.

His emotions were mixed. He was a bit angry, he was shocked, he was sad and hopeless. But at the same time all he wanted was to hear Claire's voice and know that she wasn't upset with him anymore.

No matter how wonderful at other times, Charlie officially concluded that being in love sucked.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for such a slow chapter and sorry for the lack of dialogue, but I can't write anymore tonight! But I will I promise :) Hope you enjoyed.**

**xox Sacha**


	24. Chapter 24 Crazy Talk

**A/N: As if there isn't already enough drama, I've decided to put some Daire in this chapter. Please forgive me for the horribleness that is this chapter, and the OOCness. I hate myself for doing this. **

* * *

Time to Let Go:

Desmond almost stepped on Claire when he entered Jack's tent. He had come for some painkillers-his muscles were still sore from where Charlie had clobbered him. He smiled a bit to himself, a little sadness mixed in. He would never admit it to her, but Claire was worrying him so much. There was something about her that he wanted to protect.

It wasn't like Desmond was in _love_ with the Aussie or anything. He just felt a strange urge of protection toward her. He was sure most of the men on the island felt the same. How could you not want to be there for Claire? The girl was a sweet heart. And he felt guilty, too, about not saving Aaron. A part of him wanted to make up for this.

Sighing, he crouched beside her. "Claire," He spoke quietly yet firmly. She must be terribly uncomfortable on the ground like that. "Claire, wake up." Desmond placed a hand on her shoulder and shook her gently. She moaned softly and pushed herself up tiredly.

"My…head hurts," She groaned, rubbing her eyes. She then looked up and saw it was Desmond she was speaking to. She frowned. "What do _you _want?"

Desmond shook his head wearily. "Listen, sister. I only came in here for some painkillers. I jus' thought since ye were passed out on the ground of Jack's tent that I should wake ye."

Claire nodded, a frowned etched in her normally delicate features. "Right. Well, don't think that suddenly being friendly will make me forget about what happened." Her gaze flickered away from him, her eyes unfocused. "I'll never forget."

Desmond pressed a hand to his temple. "I'm not asking ye to forget!" He exclaimed exasperatedly. "Claire, I'm sorry for what happened. I know that it's a long shot, but can't we at least be civil to each other?"

Claire's face became quite red. She looked fierce. "How can you even ask that?! Desmond, you killed my child!" She was furious. But all of a sudden her tone softened, tears welled in her eyes. "There's no greater grief than that of a mother who has lost her child."

Desmond nodded, his face set in a grim expression. "Oh no, please don't cry Claire." Not knowing what else to do he gathered her in his arms. "Please don't cry." She resisted at first, pulling away frantically, before choking out a sob and crying into Desmond's chest. His blue button up was rough against her cheek, her tears making it wet.

She continued to cry like that for a few moments, latching onto the Scotsman, desperate for some form of physical connection. She didn't know what was going on. Her head hurt and there was a loud, ongoing beeping sound in her left ear. Her face felt flushed and her whole body was hot.

"Desmond," She mewled pathetically. "Is Charlie angry with me?" She wiped the tears from her porcelain cheeks with the back of her hand. She gazed up at Desmond with wide, nervous blue eyes and he noticed that her bottom lip was trembling. As if she was going to burst into tears again any minute.

"I don't think so, love."

Claire blinked slowly, her mind willing her to let go of Desmond, her arms not doing what they were being told. She didn't know why she was acting this way. It was probably a reaction to the Heroin and the vaccine.

All of a sudden Claire was scared of what she'd done. She needed to know what had happened to her baby. But she didn't want to die, either! Not once before this moment had she considered the danger of mixing the two together. But now that she thought of it, there was a good chance that she might die.

That would explain how crappy she was feeling. Claire felt dizzy and nauseous, she kept feeling flashes of panic, and her pupils were completely dilated (though this she didn't know). Desmond could tell she was frightened of something.

Not knowing why, he brought her closer so that she was pressed comfortably against his chest. Desmond stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. He wasn't in love with Claire. He _wasn't_. It had just been a very long time since he had held someone this way. A long time since he himself had been held.

Penny was the only girl for him. But it had been five years since he'd been kissed. Even off the island, after his break up with Penny, he hadn't gone after anyone else. All of a sudden having the Aussie press her lips to his seemed like the most important thing in the world.

Claire felt nothing for Desmond. Not even lust. Not even anger. She was emotionless. And surprised. How could the man that had helped in killing little Aaron be so sweet? The world was a crazy place. But still, she felt nothing other than that shock.

Maybe she felt a bit guilty, too. If Charlie saw the way she was clinging to Desmond he would be heartbroken. And hadn't Claire already upset him enough?

"What do you want, Desmond?" She asked. She looked up at him, her fringe tumbling into her eyes. She swept it away. "Why are you here? Why are you…holding me?" She glanced down at his arms enveloping her midsection, completely forgetting that she was the one to grab him first. Or was she? It was hard to remember anything right now…

"Claire…" Desmond took a deep breath. "I haven't had physical contact like this in years."

Claire shook her head and attempted to crawl away from Desmond, but he cupped her chin so that she was looking into his eyes. "I want to ask ye a favour."

Claire blinked up at him again. "And why would I do anything for you?" She bit.

"Kiss me. I haven' been kissed in over five years, Claire. Please do this for me."

Claire frowned. "Desmond, you're sick, you know that? You really think I'm going to _kiss _you after all you've done?!"

Desmond just continued to stare at her.

Claire shoved Desmond away from her and shakily got to her feet. "Don't ever ask me something like that again," She said as she staggered off. Leaving Desmond alone in Jack's tent.

* * *

**A/N: Ugh, I hate this chapter. But after how long it took me to write I might as well post it. Hopefully you enjoyed it at least a little bit. Please review!**

**xox Sacha**


	25. Chapter 25 Don't Let Me Get Me

**A/N: Short, pointless chapter, just to update. The excitement resumes next chappie. Sorry for the OOCness!**

* * *

Time to Let Go:

Charlie saw her stomping his way. Her face was flushed and she looked angry. But as soon as Claire made eye contact with the Englishman, she started to cry. Not in the beautiful, flawless way she did sometimes-the tears simply rolling down her porcelain cheeks. No, this time her face scrunched up and she hiccoughed and sobbed and ran toward him (staggering slightly) and clutched his shirt in her fists.

"Charlie," Claire cried into his shoulder as he held her close. She looked like a mad woman. And though of course he couldn't control this, Charlie was going to try his best to prevent Claire from ever crying again. But then again, that's what he thought every time he saw her eyes filled with tears.

"Claire," Charlie felt tears form in his own eyes. "Why are we so messed up?"

Claire's frail shoulders shook. She glanced up at him with hurt glazed blue eyes, and blinked slowly. As if she didn't understand him. But she did. "I don't know. But I hate the world. And I'm sorry," She clenched him hard to her, and it actually hurt him a little bit. "I'm so sorry, love."

His heart, his screwed up, sick heart started to beat like crazy and he wiped his sleeve over his eyes to get rid of the tears. "Don't be. I'm the one who should be apologizing. I just don't know what to do anymore."

Carefully, slowly, Charlie raised a hand and tucked a strand of dull blond hair behind Claire's ear. Her honeyed curls didn't contain their usual shine. That was a blow to him, for some reason. It made him feel like the woman he loved was slowly dying, disintegrating inch by inch. "What's happened?"

Looking around and noticing that most of the people on the beach were very obviously eavesdropping, Claire pulled Charlie into the tent they shared. She pushed him onto the makeshift bed and climbed beside him, their knees touching, and absentmindedly playing footsie with each other.

"What's happened? A lot has happened this week. I can't believe it's only been a week, and I'm already a drug addict with a dead son." She looked so sad, like her heart was breaking that very second. Without thinking twice, Charlie leaned closer and pressed his ear to her chest, and listened to Claire's heartbeat. It was musical. He hummed along.

"I'm sorry for how I acted," Claire cupped his stubbly chin so that he was looking up at her. She was so pretty. "I don't want to lose you, Charlie; you're all I've got. So please, let's never fight again." She kissed his forehead.

"Never," He agreed. "I love you, Claire. Don't ever go away." And he kissed her lips and her nose and the top of her head.

Tears pouring from her eyes, her hand clasping Charlie's, Claire murmured softly, "I love you too."

And that was that.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed, please review! Sorry it's short. And sorry it sucks.**

**xox Sacha**


	26. Chapter 26 Don't Wanna Care

**A/N: Hopefully this chapter is long and exciting. Enjoy! Please review! Italics are dreams and flashbacks.**

* * *

Time to Let Go:

_He was hers. He was hers, and she had lost him. Aaron was a creation of her flesh and blood. He was hers, and she loved him, and now he was gone. Claire felt like a failure as a mother. And she genuinely missed her son. _

_They had spent nine months completely inseparable. He had resided inside of her, learning the pattern of her heartbeat, adoring every aspect of her that whole time. His mother, his favourite person in the world. _

_It was lonely here, beneath the cool sand. Aaron missed his mother. And that funny, stubbly man who was always around. Charlie. The guy that might as well be his dad._

Claire awoke with a start. Sweat was beaded at her forehead and she was breathing heavily. She was feeling a bit drowsy, her body craving more sleep. "Must have drifted off," She mused to herself, her jaw stretching with a wide yawn. It was better to forget about that bad dream she'd been having, the one where she felt like she was actually seeing from Aaron's point of view.

Which was impossible. Because _her _son was dead.

Charlie smiled at her slowly, his arm snaking around her slim waist and kept his eyes on her mouth. He pressed his thumb to her plump, rose bottom lip. Feeling it's shape. Submitting every fascinating detail about her to his mind.

"I didn't want to wake you. It's rare that you get a decent rest. At night I can hear you mumbling and tossing and turning."

Claire pursed her lips absentmindedly, and then smiled to Charlie. "I'm surprised you stay up late enough to notice these little things about me."

Charlie crinkled his brow, something Claire found adorable, and responded thoughtfully, "I've been having a hard time sleeping nowadays too. Don't know why."

Claire sent him a concerned glance. She rubbed his back in slow circles, soothingly. "What have you been feeling like?"

The corner of Charlie's mouth quirked into a half smile. "Nah, don't worry about it. I'm fine."

Claire frowned, and slid off the makeshift bed. "Let's go see Jack anyway. Please, for me," She urged sweetly.

"Oh, alright," Charlie rummaged through the suitcases in the tent (which was still a mess) and pulled out his old grey hoodie. He hadn't worn it since the first few weeks on the island. And now, with his want for comfort and something familiar and safe, he put the hoodie on. Claire couldn't help noticing that the hoodie appeared much baggier on the Englishman than the last time he had worn it. This worried her. She had half a mind to force feed Charlie until he was back to his regular size.

Grabbing Claire's hand, Charlie walked out of the tent they shared and headed in the direction of Jack's medical tent.

Once the two of them arrived, they called out for Jack, who emerged from his tent looking simply exhausted. All of the islanders, besides Charlie and Claire, who were in their own little world, had noticed. They were sure that the guilt for something he couldn't control, namely Aaron's death, was eating away at him, and for that he had lost sleep.

"Claire, Charlie," The doctor greeted. His eyes were bloodshot.

"Jack, do you think you could look Charlie over? After what happened the other night..." She needn't say more.

"Sure," He checked Charlie's pulse, to see if it was nice and strong. It wasn't really, but not bad enough to be a prime worry. Yet, anyway. He felt the back of Charlie's forehead, and overall checked him over.

"You're not as healthy as you could be, Charlie, if I'm honest. But you can get better with with rest, maybe some anti-depressants, and therapy. Seeing as you threw my anti-depressants in the ocean and no one really has time to psycho-analyze you, go for the rest, drink lots of liquids, and get your Tylenol from me every six hours." He smiled reassuringly.

Claire nodded, her mouth set in a grim line to what Jack was saying. She needed to be able to take care of Charlie, and to do that she needed to get as much information as possible of what was wrong with him.

Jack gave Charlie two Tylenol capsules which he swallowed, then, after Charlie's insistence (because Claire honestly didn't think she was unhealthy in the least), checked over Claire. The results of his inspection were worrying.

"I don't quite know what to tell you. Claire, your stress and depression is affecting your emotionally and physically; on two different planes. I'd advise you to come see me later so I can give you more medication as well."

Claire scoffed beneath her breath. After thanking Jack for his time, the two of them left his tent and walked along the ocean by the beach. People were crowding about, but Charlie and Claire felt as if no one could interrupt their alone time.

"Do you feel close to me?" Charlie asked Claire, giving her a quick peck on the lips.

"Yes. Of course I do. But I wish we wouldn't have so many misunderstandings."

Charlie didn't respond. He had spotted something floating in the water. He frowned, concentrating, wondering if what he thought he was seeing was what was really there.

"Charlie? Are you okay?"

"One second," Charlie replied, advancing toward the water and kneeling in the sand before it. He reached out and turned over something in his hand.

Upon closer inspection, Claire saw that what Charlie was holding was a Virgin Mary statue. More Smack, an escape, was what Claire had been wishing for ever since she found out that Charlie had gotten rid of the rest of it. But life shouldn't be so fair as to grant her wish. Something didn't feel right.

And all of a sudden she was yelling, and cursing, and flailing her arms crazily. Charlie was looking up at her with wide, shocked blue eyes, and Claire passed out.

When she regained consciousness five minutes later, she was being held down. Frightened, and by reflex, she did all possible to get away, just run away. She scratched at the hands around her mid section wildly, scared out of her mind and not knowing what was what.

Something wasn't right.

* * *

**A/N: Not as good as I thought it would be. It kind of dragged on. Hopefully you guys feel differently. Please review!**

**xox Sacha**


	27. Chapter 27 She Ain't No Saint

**A/N: Another chapter. Hopefully everyone enjoyed the last one. Please review, people! =]**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Lost or any of its characters. **

* * *

Time to Let Go:

"Get off her!" Charlie shouted, struggling against the strong arms wrapped around him. "Jesus, Sayid, I'm not going to go crazy! Just let me see her!"

Sayid, who had been restraining Charlie ever since he dived to push Jack away from Claire, sighed and released him. Charlie dropped to his knees beside the Aussie, scowling at Jack for having scared her so badly, and muttered soothingly, "Claire, everything's fine. It's all right. Shh, just relax..."

Claire whimpered, lying on her back in the sand. Her eyes were wide and scared looking, and she was biting her bottom lip hard, but other than that she appeared fine. Charlie cursed Jack for having been so rough with her. Didn't he know what condition she was in?! She had just started freaking out, and Jack had about tackled her, the jerk.

Claire breathed deeply, trying to calm herself. She felt wary of everyone around her; as if they really intended to do her harm instead of help her. She didn't know how she had lost control of herself so completely. Yeah, Charlie had found a Virgin Mary statue. So what? That didn't mean there was any Heroin inside, and it was no reason for her to freak out like that.

And yet just glancing at the washed up statue caused shivers to run down her spine.

"Are you going to be okay now?" Asked Charlie, getting to his feet and helping her up as well. Claire noted that the two of them were still surrounded by the other castaways. She nodded quickly.

"Claire, Charlie, do you think I could speak with the two of you for a minute?" Jack pointedly glanced over his shoulder. "Let's go to my tent."

Charlie flashed Claire a reassuring smile and squeezed her hand. "Don't worry about it. Let's go."

The three of them walked up to Jack's tent in complete silence. Jack was holding the Virgin Mary statue in his hand. Once they were inside, he looked over to Claire, speaking only to her.

"I understand that coping with Aaron's death is hard for you. I know that to go on feeling like things are all right, a person would do anything. I trust you, and I want to know that you trust me as well. So because I am your friend and I care about you, I'm going to ask you, Claire, one last time. Is there something you haven't been telling me?"

Claire swallowed hard, and guiltily stared at the ground. She didn't know what to say. She wanted to tell Jack the truth, because she really did trust him and love him as a friend. But she didn't want to let him in on her secret.

Because then he might make her quit! And she wasn't ready for that. Claire glanced at the Virgin Mary statue. It was still in Jack's hands, staring at her with intimidation.

"Claire?" Jack prompted when she didn't answer. "Please tell me the truth. I can help."

There was a lump in Clair's throat. She felt like screaming and bawling and shouting to Jack that he _couldn't _help, that he didn't understand in the least, but she kept quiet. She didn't answer his question.

Jack nodded his head, his voice flat and without emotion. "I see. So that's the way it's going to be, then. That's fine." He turned to Charlie, who felt as if he were a child sitting in the principal's office who was about to be in trouble.

"I was sure you were doing better, Charlie," Jack sighed, very disappointed. Charlie felt ashamed of himself. Jack smashed the Virgin Mary statue, and Charlie winced visibly. Claire was just glad the evil thing was destroyed. Now she could enjoy what was inside.

Jack brushed aside the broken plaster and pulled out a baggie full of Heroin. He dangled it in front of the both of them. "Tell me the truth, or I will find another way to get it. Charlie and Claire are the both of you using?"

Charlie stepped forward courageously, ready to take the blame for Claire. But it wasn't needed. Claire wanted to be honest with Jack. For the very first time, she felt ashamed to be a junkie. What had happened to her? She used to be such a good person. And now...what was wrong with her? Who was she?

"Yeah, Jack," She replied softly. "I have been using. Not Charlie. Don't blame Charlie for a thing, because nothing is his fault. It's all mine."

Charlie squeezed Claire's hand again. "You didn't have to do that," He said worriedly.

"Now how are we going to solve this?" Demanded Jack, concerned.

"Solve what?" Responded Claire, a bit annoyed. "Jack, I'm not going to stop. I can't handle anything without it."

Jack scoffed. "Claire, you can't keep using. If you're going to start screaming about everything and scaring everyone like that, you can't keep using."

Claire stamped her foot loudly, like a child. "Jack, you cannot keep me from something I want. I was honest with you, but I am not quitting." Claire looked mad. As if she would do anything in this world to keep from quitting.

"Claire," Charlie placed a hand on either of her shoulders. "Calm yourself, okay? Jack's trying to help."

"Oh no he isn't, Charlie," Claire frowned at him. "Don't let him do this, okay?" She smiled sadly. "I need it. If you love me Charlie, please don't let him take it away."

Jack stared at the two of them, appalled. Surely Charlie wouldn't allow Claire to continue doing this to herself! "How's your heart?" He asked, changing the subject. He would deal with this later, if he could.

"It's fucking fine," Charlie growled, annoyed at Jack's attempt of evasion of the subject. Everyone pissed him off lately; Jack, Desmond, Hurley, pretty much everyone except Claire. "Jack, I'm fine! And even if Claire doesn't quit, which of course I want her to, she has been unhealthy lately."

"I'll give her a check up," Jack rolled his eyes. Claire stepped forward, and setting down the baggie so they could discuss the matter later, he got out his small flashlight. He inspected Claire's glands, inside her mouth, asked about her symptoms.

"She threw up earlier today, and lately she's just been randomly passing out on me, and her emotions are in a whirl wind."

Claire glared at Charlie. "I'm fine!" She hissed.

Jack sighed. "I don't really think that you are. Please, Claire, stop using? You're destroying yourself."

Claire shook her head, on the verge of tears. "I can't. I wish you'd understand." She glanced at Charlie. "And you as well, love."

Charlie embraced her. "I fully understand. I still wish I could use. I would return to it at the drop of a hat. But I know I have to take care of you, so that stops me. And since though I loved it, I don't want to return to the person I used to be, that's kind of a good thing. I guess."

Jack sighed. "Fine, don't quit. But be careful. And don't come fucking crying to me if something happens."

Jack looked angry as well. Charlie thought that was understandable, though he would still probably hold it against him if he refused to help Claire if she was ever sick. Though it was more his responsibility than Jack's.

Feeling that they should leave, Charlie pulled Claire out of Jack's tent. She stopped and grabbed the Heroin baggie before she left, making Jack frown.

"I think Jack's angry with me," Said Claire, a tremor in her voice.

Charlie didn't say anything at all.

* * *

**A/N: Once again, not exciting. It will happen, I swear. Please review!**

**xox Sacha**


	28. Chapter 28 Thanks for the Memories

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews! Sorry for the wait. Enjoy this! **

**Flashbacks or dreams are in **_Italics._ **You'll be able to tell the difference.**

* * *

Time to Let Go:

Charlie and Claire walked back to the beach in silence. There was something between them that felt uncomfortable. Subconsciously, Claire had changed. And she knew it. But the fact that Charlie was still standing by her, still loved her, was so beautiful that it made her want to cry.

Claire wanted to smooth out their differences. So did Charlie, she knew. So she stopped and grasped his hands in hers and looked him in the eyes. His eyes were a deep blue, darker than her own. They reflected the emotions he was feeling inside.

The fear and worry were plain to see. There were other emotions there too that Claire could recognize, but she decided to focus on one in particular. Charlie's pupils were dilated with what was clearly wanting. But Claire could not be sure what it was that he wanted. The Heroin or her?

"Love," Claire smiled faintly, just the corners of her mouth lifting. Her eyes were the lightest colour of blue. Charlie wished he had a camera with him. Because Claire was the most gorgeous woman in the world, and she was staring up at him with so much love that it hurt. That was all she managed to say before Charlie tilted her chin upward and opened his mouth against hers.

Claire's lips were very soft, and strangely sweet tasting. Charlie's hands held her face gently as his tongue explored her mouth. He found it adorable when she had to stop their kiss because she was breathing so hard. She buried her face into his chest. "What can I say? You take my breath away," Claire giggled.

They could be happy if they tried.

Charlie was amazed. He had been with so many women. And though he had had fun, he wished that he could undo all those past one night stands and just have been with Claire the whole time.

* * *

_**One night and one more time**_

_**Thanks for the memories**_

_**Even thought they weren't so great**_

_**He tastes like you only sweeter**_

_**One night and one more time**_

_**Thanks for the memories**_

_**Thanks for the memories**_

_**See, he tastes like you only sweeter.**_

_Memories. That's all they would ever have together, Thomas and Claire. No future. Just that two year past high school romance. But tonight she didn't care. She was hanging with Josie and Tiffany tonight. With a little help from those two, and her new best friend, vodka, she would carry on just fine._

_Claire and Thomas fought constantly, but that didn't mean she didn't still love him. She may seem tough (it was the attitude that made everyone think so) but she did have feelings. Very strong feelings, too. They were for Thomas and they were strong and very real._

_She was sixteen and had her whole life ahead of her to cope with break ups the right way. Tonight she was going to do her own thing. With each swig of alcohol the pain was numbed, and Claire was glad of that. She banged her head to the music and laughed wildly with Josie and Tiffany. _

_Oh, what booze does to the behaviour of young girls!_

_A few days later Claire and Thomas get back together. They didn't break up again until he walked out on her while she was pregnant. Now all she thinks about when she thinks of him is Thanks for the Memories. _

* * *

**A/N: Hope that chapter was enjoyable and not too confusing. It was short, sorry. Anyway, please review! **

**xox Sacha**


	29. Chapter 29 Euphoria

**A/N: I'm SO sorry for the wait! Again :S I knew I had to get at least a couple chapters in before I go to Edmonton for a few days. So here it is, finally. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Lost or any of its characters.**

Dreams and flashbacks in _Italics_. You'll be able to tell the difference!

* * *

Time to Let Go:

Claire had a theory on what she was doing to herself. Mixing a powerful narcotic with a vaccine she didn't know the least bit about, and those pills she had swallowed had to be some form of self abuse. As if she was punishing herself in the slowest, most atrociously delicious way. Snorting wasn't simply the act of a Junkie using; it was so much more complex than that, as intricate as a spider web. Passing the adulterous substance into her system had her whistling on her slow descent into some kind of personal hell, instead of dragging her down kicking and screaming. Yes, she was still going to end up dead and buried, but at least it was by choice. But Heroin is a lying bitch--so was it really by her choice?

Just what did drugs do to the human body? Nothing good, the Australian knew this. The sensation of a hit was a rush of pure euphoria, but Claire had a secret fear of what the toxins in her body were doing to her. Too wrapped up in grief and fury to grasp the concept before, it was Jack that had made her realize. He was a doctor, he knew about these things.

And he wouldn't be bitching and moaning like he was unless he really cared about the issue. He was her friend…right?

"I've found it," Claire announced, excited to share her newfound revelation.

"And what is this 'it'?" Charlie sat down on their little makeshift bed, and pulled her to lie across his lap. Her torso rested on his thighs, her translucent legs dangling but inches from the sand beneath them. She pulled at the frayed threads of her faded blue Capri's (well, actually they weren't technically _hers_. A plane crash meant share and share alike), and glanced up at Charlie from beneath her lashes. "Cruel to be kind," She answered, a youthful quality to her blue eyed gaze.

As if she'd seen no evil. But Charlie knew that wasn't true. Her boyfriend had left her at eight months preggers, and her baby boy had died. If that wasn't evil, than Charlie didn't know what was. Claire was much deeper than anyone would think, besides him. The man thought the world of Claire Littleton. He wanted to fix her, if he did anything he had to do that.

"Care to elaborate?" The corner of his mouth twitched into a half smile, and he stroked her blonde locks. Claire's crystalline orbs connected with Charlie's stormy ones. She nodded once, the motion barely perceptible except the Englishman was watching her closely, just like he always did. Swiftly, he dropped a quick kiss to her forehead, and she smiled contently.

For now, that was all she could be. Content. Until she got over their circumstances, she would always be just okay.

"It's all just one big plan, Charlie," Claire sat up, and placed her hands on his shoulders gently. "We'll come through all right."

"Will we?" Charlie wasn't so sure about that. Who was the maker of this so called plan? Desmond had a plan for the two of them; one to ensure their safety for the next few weeks. But his plan wasn't fool proof, so why would any other plan be?

"Yes," Claire's voice was a soft whisper, and her hands moved up so that her arms were laced around his neck. "I know it."

A tender smile was sent her way. "Your word is enough for me, love." For now it was, anyway.

Claire released her hold on him and leaned back, so that she was once again lying in Charlie's lap. Her shirt rode up a tad, and because he was a man and he couldn't help himself, Charlie's thumb grazed past her navel, leaving goose bumps in its wake.

The Aussie watched him steadily, curious as to his actions. She opened her mouth to pose a question, when he ducked his head and kissed it from her lips. Just the right combination of tongue and he grazed her plush bottom lip with his teeth, gently. Claire responded enthusiastically, her hands winding themselves in silky strands of gold and then pulling away to wrap her lips around his pulse. "Luscious girl," The growl was filled with wanting, and he pressed his forehead to hers, making full on eye contact and feeling tickled as her fringe fell into his face.

"Charlie," Claire said in a small voice, waiting for a reply before continuing. "Are we going to go to hell?"

Nothing Claire could have said could have surprised Charlie more. It seemed childlike of her to ask such a question, but the Englishman got the impression that she really did need to know. "No!" He exclaimed, a scowl forming. "Why would you think such a thing?"

She scooted off his lap, and took his hand in her own smaller one. "Jack disapproves of the both of us using, does he not? And being the angel that he is, being on his bad side might mean a one way ticket to the fiery depths." Her expression was one of sadness, and fear. She was afraid of what was to come.

And so was he. "We're not on Jack's bad side, are we?" Charlie demanded disbelievingly. "Claire, the man is our friend. Just because we've had a slight misunderstanding doesn't mean he's turning his back on us. I'm sure we'll be on speaking terms in a few days." He smiled warmly at her, and she couldn't help smiling back.

"If you say so, Charlie." He squeezed her hand, and winked, and she giggled.

"I do," He insisted seriously.

And so that was that.

* * *

"_Your brother is a stoner!" _

"_Bloody useless!"_

"_He'll grow up to become nothing, and you'll grow up to become just like him!"_

_The jeers rang in Charlie's head, and he yelled with frustration. He was lying in the gutter with a bloody lip, and could already feel the bruises forming. Anderson, the toughest and biggest jerk in the grade, had made it a habit to beat him up over any and every reason he could think of. From talking to his girlfriend Jess to not giving up his allowance, Charlie had had his ass kicked by Anderson for a variety of reasons. "He is not," Was Charlie's retort, his eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. "Now shut the fuck up!" _

_A few kicks to the ribs, and one to the groin and Charlie was groaning. It wasn't just Anderson, either. Two comrades were with him, both impossibly huge and dumb. _

"_Listen up, man," Anderson knelt down to Charlie's level and looked him in the eyes. "I just wanna help you out! It's in your bro's best interest to stop toking; and yours too."_

"_Why is anything my brother or I do your problem? Or any of your business at all?" Charlie snapped, glaring. _

_Anderson sighed, and rolled his eyes, bored. "It really isn't, but I'm making it my business, you wanker. Now why don't you be a good boy and let your brother know that the more he smokes, the worst it is for his health?" A smirk glittering with malice was flashed at him, and Charlie looked away, anger bubbling in his veins. "And for yours too."_

_And with one last smack, Anderson and his two gits left, leaving Charlie alone to feel sorry for himself. Since nobody else every bothered to._

* * *

**A/N: And there! Done another chapter =) PLEASE review, everyone. I really insist upon it. It would make me extremely happy!**

**xox Sacha**


	30. Chapter 30 Soak Up the Sun

**A/N: So sorry for not updating sooner! Now let's get back on track.**** Enjoy. And I know it's probably less than a year that C&C would have known each other, so obviously I made it up. Lol. Please review for me =)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Lost or any of its characters.**

* * *

Time to Let Go:

The day was young, and Claire was restless. Unending hours of limitless free time loomed ahead of her unless she found something to keep herself occupied. Since the implosion of the hatch there hadn't been much excitement about. Thinking of herself seemed a little selfish for some reason, toward poor little Aaron. And she told herself it wasn't fun she craved as much as relief from a never ending, black and white spiral of boredom and borderline depression.

"I'll see you around, okay?" Claire grinned at her man, standing and slipping into flip flops. Her sunny blonde hair was arranged in a casual up do.

"Where are you going?" Charlie held onto her hand and toyed with her fingers, tilting a smile up at her. The Aussie shrugged; "Around. I just need to find something to do!"

"How about me?" Charlie winked, his chest puffed out proudly at the wittiness of his comment. The blonde laughed, and shoved him playfully so that he landed sideways on the beaten down mattress that was their bed.

"You're quite the comedian today, aren't you?" She teased him, ducking her head and opening her mouth against his. Her pink tongue caressed his skilfully, wet and sloppy and absolutely perfect.

They separated with a smacking sound, and both laughed nervously and blushed at each other. There was no doubt that they were soul mates, and Charlie and Claire loved each other more than anything, but time didn't move forward. It didn't change the fact that they had only known each other for about a year.

"I'm sure I will, one day," She tempted him, and Charlie almost groaned with wanting. She laughed to herself and then pulled back the tarp and was submitted out in the sunlight. One thing that Claire would never got sick of about living on an island (despite smoke monsters, others, and that crazy French chick) was waking up to glorious white beaches and shining blue depths, every single morning.

The smiling faces of the rest of the castaways was another do good factor of the crash. It seemed curious to Claire that they could still be happy after chain effect catastrophes. But here they were, making the best of what each new day threw at them. _I should be more like that,_ she thought. But come to think of it, Claire's outlook had improved. Every day she got a little better, and a little sicker.

People looked at her as she passed, but it wasn't the same open mouthed, silent staring it had been only a couple weeks ago.

"Hi, Claire," Hearing her name said in such a friendly way by Kate was so shocking that the brunette had to repeat herself. "I said; hi, Claire!" Kate smiled at her, and the Aussie could tell she wasn't actually as impatient as she sounded.

Claire grinned, upward because Kate was slightly taller. She leaned forward and wrapped her freckled friend in her warm embrace. Claire only went up to the girl's chin—she had always been petite. It felt nice being so close physically to someone other than Charlie. She _knew _he would always love her. It was her relationships with her friends that had her on edge.

"Hey there, Kate," Claire beamed. "What are you doing?"

A bit caught off guard by her cheery demeanour, Kate replied, "Nothing too important. So you decided to mingle today?" By her tone and just generally because she knew her, Claire could tell that Kate's humour was light and good natured. She must simply really be curious.

"Today looked appealing," The blonde confessed. "I decided to chance it. Warm weather can only help improve my mood, right?"

"I'm no genius with the weather, like Locke, but I'd say you're right."

Claire chuckled. "Well, then."

Kate grinned. She sat down in the sand, and Claire joined her. "I'm glad to see you coming out of your shell and taking care of yourself, Claire. I knew you would pull through."

Claire smiled weakly, but it did reach her eyes. "I'm not sure that I'm quite that far along, really. But Charlie and I are making progress."

Kate nodded and put an arm around her friend's shoulders. The Aussie was kind of like a sister to her, someone she needed to protect. Claire felt it too; there was an unspeakable bond between them that had been there since the very beginning. Since the pregnant soon to be mother had fainted within the sun with heat stroke, and then again at the capturing of Ethan.

The two sat in comfortable silence for a while, nothing more needing to be said. The sun hot on her skin, Claire began to grow very weary, and soon she was lying on her back in the sand, her arms pillowed beneath her head. As her eyes closed of their own accord, she wasn't sure whether Kate was still by her side or not.

All that mattered was the hotness on her skin and how deliciously comfortable this position was. Maybe her translucent skin would gain a little colour, even! And then she heard a familiar (though not missed) Scottish accent and Claire mentally rolled her eyes.

"Hello, Claire."

Claire peeked open one eye and sighed. "I thought it was you, Desmond."

He grinned at her, his teeth, she noticed, straight and white. "Good ear, love. Now what are you up to?"

Claire opened both eyes and stared at the Scotsman. Her blue eyes connected with his hazel ones. She turned over onto her stomach, and pulled her curls out of that uncomfortable messy bun. "Des," She started, exasperated, "Are you flirting with me? Because if you are, I've got to say; you really shouldn't."

And it was the truth! Charlie despised the man, and Desmond had Penny, didn't he? Desmond scoffed.

"No, I am not hitting on ye," He gave a low growl. "I just wanted to see how you were doing. I haven't stopped caring for ye and Charlie."

Claire was unsure of Desmond's motives. She nodded, letting him talk but not really listening too in depth. She flashed him a smile, though it was brittle and almost fake, and got to her feet. Feeling Desmond's eyes boring into her behind as she walked, she flipped him the bird behind her back.

Take that.

* * *

**A/N: Once again, sorry for the delay. Desmond's unexpected crush on Claire will be explained soon. Remember, even though he loves Penny, he probably hasn't gotten laid in years, and he _is_ a guy. Keep that in mind. Claire just happens to be the one that catches his eye. Please please review!**

**xox Sacha**


	31. Chapter 31 Bros Before Hoes

**A/N: Thanks for the review. Here's another chapter for ya :)**

* * *

Time to Let Go:

Desmond sat in the warm sand, his eyes trailing curiously after Claire as she walked away from him. He couldn't kid himself that the girl wasn't spineless; she had backbone. In a way, her attitude amused and intrigued him. He was a man, after all, and so he was enjoying the chase. The Scotsman wasn't sure why the blonde caught his eye so. He would always love Penny, and no other. But Claire was adorable and sweet and broken and he wanted to fix her. Desmond hadn't felt a woman's touch in years.

"Dude, you've got nerve," Hurley lumbered over and sat down beside him. Desmond gave him a look.

"What do ye mean?" He questioned.

Hurley laughed; a jolly, incredulous sound. "Well you know Charlie's gonna beat you if he finds out you're like, flirting with his chick. But I get it; you gotta play the field after all your time flying solo," Hurley grinned at him impishly.

Desmond chuckled, and clapped his friend on the back. "Thanks for the approval, mate. How could he blame me, though? She's probably the perkiest bird on this place." He shook his head at himself, knowing just how trying he was being. If only Charlie knew...

Hurley nodded. "I'm with you, there. She's the island sweetheart. It's a known fact." But then he grew serious. "You're not going to try _too_ hard for her, are you? Dude, you don't know? It's bros before hoes."

Desmond shrugged. "I say the lass is fair game, mate. And anyway; she's only a temporary. It's Penny I really want."

Hurley sighed and shook his head. "It's your funeral," he offered, and this had Desmond booming with laughter once more.

"I have to say; it's surprising that you're standing up for Charlie like this. Didn't ye two and Claire have a row?"

Now it was Hurley's turn to look uncomfortable. "What, am I being put on the stand here? Yeah. So? Friends till the end, man."

Desmond could appreciate Hurley's honesty and loyalty. "Ye have integrity, Hurley. Don't ever forget that."

"Well now, you sure know how to butter me right on up, don't you?" The man laughed. Desmond joined in. The two were reasonably good friends; they almost always had a good time when they were together.

"Aye, I do."

* * *

**With Claire...**

Claire had been trying to keep herself busy for hours. But there was simply nothing exciting going on today! She returned to their tent, and he was strumming his guitar with no shirt on. Charlie didn't seem aware of the fact that he looked tempting as sin; all toned abs, bulging biceps, tousled hair, and baby blues.

"Hey, stud," Claire posed in the entrance, smirking at her man. How was it possible that only a week ago he had been a bag of skin and bones? He had regained definition. The Aussie was delighted that he was getting healthier. If only she could work on herself, now.

Charlie chuckled, setting his guitar aside and opening him arms wide for her. "Welcome, doll."

Claire held him close, and he ran his fingers through her mane of gold, which cascaded down her back. "You know, you looking so yummy and all, I might just have to take you up on that earlier proposition." Her eyes sparkled with humour.

"Goodie," He sighed, his warm breath tickling her ear. "Shall we shag now, or shag later?" And Claire thought he sounded just like Austin Powers. A delicious shiver worked its way through her, and she eyed up her man candy with appreciation.

She clasped his hand. "Will you come somewhere with me? It's where Sayid took Shannon on their first date. We could have some...alone time." Her hand traveled past his abdomen, up his chest to hold onto his shoulders squarely.

"I'd follow you anywhere in the world, Claire," Charlie said with sincerity. They both knew it was true. She kissed him, abruptly, deeply.

"I know, love."

* * *

**A/N: Hope you people liked that. Please review!**

**xox Sacha**


	32. Chapter 32 Whatever Will Be, Will Be

**A/N: Here's another chapter =) hope everyone enjoys. And please remember to review!!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Lost or any of its characters.**

* * *

Time to Let Go:

It was a rare time when Charlie and Claire found themselves completely alone, with no one within a two mile radius. Everyone was either hovering around them annoyingly, or shunning them altogether. But Claire thought that at last she had found a good balance; she could spend most of her time with her man with brief interludes of other company in between. That was the way she liked it.

The white sand was hot on their feet, and Charlie and Claire walked hand in hand to a more private beach. Their fingers were interlocked so that it made the Aussie beam. She'd always wanted someone she could be this absolutely close to, someone she was comfortable around but who still made her heart beat faster. She had found that someone in Charlie Pace.

"What exactly are we going to do once we get there?" Charlie questioned meekly. He smiled, squeezing Claire's hand.

"Que sera, sera," Claire responded, and this made Charlie's face split into a grin. He gave a little chuckle, and Claire giggled. They clasped hands even harder.

And then they had arrived. Charlie slumped to the sand, sighing deeply in contentment. The sun was warm on his skin, but that wasn't the only reason he was feeling hot.

Claire crawled forward, and heaved her lithe body on top of Charlie's. She had a mischievous sort of expression on her normally angelic face. The Englishman held her round the waist, tight, her red and white striped tee riding up slightly. Now this was the life.

"Mmm. I love you, Charlie," Her eyes closed, her honeyed ringlets tickling his thigh, Claire made a sound that was a little bit adorable and a whole lot attracting.

"You are so perfect, you know that?" Charlie growled to her, his nose skimming her jaw line seductively, his thumbs stroking her abdomen through that red and white shirt. He cupped her cheek gently, and looked into her eyes. The intensity of his gaze and the love that filled those stormy blue orbs made the Aussie glow. "I love you too, Claire."

Things weren't rushed with these two. Nor were they fake. Everything was just right today. Only their little boy was missing.

A few tears burned in Claire's eyes. "You know, if Aaron was here with us, he would be learning to crawl soon," She whimpered, covering her face with her hands and allowing a few sobs to escape. "What did I do to him, Charlie?"

Charlie was silent for a moment, just holding Claire close to him, her rock. "None of what happened was your fault, Claire. You can't blame yourself; I won't let you! Life is just a cruel son of a bitch. I miss him too."

Claire yawned, exhausted. Crying always took it out of her. She could almost fall asleep, nestled in the crook of her man's neck. "You always know just what to say," She told him.

This was a remarkably big surprise for Charlie, but he didn't let on so. "I would do anything for you, you know that, right?" He asked.

Claire smiled warmly at him. More than anyone else in the world, it was Charlie who had been there for her. He was and always would be her constant. She owed him everything she possessed. "I know." And then she took off her bra without taking off her shirt and handed it to him, smirking slyly.

And Charlie thought he had died and gone to heaven.

* * *

**A/N: Hope everyone liked this. If there was anything I could have improved, please let me know. And once again, please review!**

**xox Sacha**


	33. Chapter 33 Midnight Crisis

**A/N: It has been way too long since I've written! Sorry 'bout that, and here's another chapter. R&R!**

* * *

Time to Let Go:

Dangling Claire's white brassiere by a strap between thumb and forefinger, he looked at her, uncertain of what she expected him to do next. Charlie was by no means a prude, if that had not already been confirmed. And yet despite raunchy nights of sweaty one night stands, he wasn't sure of how to handle the situation at hand. Claire was pure, too good, and he got the impression that she wasn't going to go all the way with him on this occasion.

And that was fine. Really, it was. The Aussie had had his heart long ago, since she was simply that adorable, bubbly pregnant girl that he wanted to protect. And Charlie didn't mind waiting for her in the least. But just what angle should he take to full fill _some _of his sexual urges and still not offend her? What was the perfect balance?

The blond stared at him, leaning against a tree from their position in the sand. The blazing sun was just resting on the shoreline, soon to extinguish and trade places with the moon, which would cast its glow over the sea. The parting glimmer of the sun shone brightly, reflected off of the crashing waves and hurting Claire's eyes. She raised a hand to shield her gaze, making a little sound of pleased surprise at the lips ravaging hers.

She held Charlie's face in her delicate white hands, tender and rejoicing that she had at last found someone whose love was better suited to her than Thomas's. Besides a fleeting thought every now and then, and a shitload of tears because her baby boy was associated with memories of her old lover, Aaron's father was hardly ever on her mind.

Good thing, too. Those flashbacks were downers, and Claire had been trying her best as of late to remain at the very least peaceful, however difficult that may be.

The two separated and readjusted, watching the sun set for a moment before the rock star noticed Claire staring at him with a small smile. He smiled back at her and put an arm around her shoulders. This was Sayid and Shannon's spot, where they'd had their first date like sort of alone time, but Charlie didn't see why they couldn't make the most of it. Shannon was gone and Sayid was bitter—and for a moment he felt a burst of justice. It wasn't just the two of them; the arab had lost someone he loved, too.

Charlie and Claire were silent for a moment. And then the Aussie reached into her pocket and pulled out a rumpled little baggie. She dangled it before her man's eyes, tempting him as she did with everything else about her, and saying, "Lookie what I have!" in a much too cheerful voice.

Charlie glared at the substance, intimidated by the very presence of the Smack, but portraying an air that was stoic. "What'd you bring that for?" he tried not to let any sort of emotion or longing into his voice, but the blond knew him better than that.

"You work hard, Charlie. Don't you ever need a little reprieve every now and then?"

The Englishman didn't answer, and Claire shrugged, taking his silence as irritation and looking guiltily down at the Heroin. "Than you're much stronger than me," she admitted and before he knew what was happening she was looking around for a hard surface, found a flat rock and was making lines, keen on getting as precise an amount of the drug as possible into her body.

Three disorderly lines stood out to Charlie, trails of sin extended on the stone, making his hands shake. "Why are you doing this?" he barked at the Aussie, passing a hand over his face wearily and swallowing against cotton mouth. "This isn't right, Claire. Why are you testing my limits?"

"Don't be such a baby!" Claire retorted, exasperation mingling with the wounded quality to her expression. "I want to share my life with you Charlie, everything about it, and you're acting like it's more than you can handle. I know what you were like before!"

She proceeded to snort the first three lines, and he thought the subject was closed until she started fixing another three lines for him. Her brow was furrowed, her fingers sprinkling the coarse grains with concentration.

Charlie reached out and grabbed her arm, making her stop what she was doing. He looked entirely serious when he darkly muttered, "You don't know the half of what I've been through."

Claire stopped, her head snapping up at the gruffness of Charlie's tone and looking taken aback. Then suddenly her face scrunched up and she pushed back her hair morosely, looking ashamed of herself and not making eye contact. "You're right," she sighed, noticing that the night was considerably darker than it had been two minutes ago, realizing only now because Charlie's being normally occupied most of her senses, the rest of her surroundings a blur. "Of course you're right. You're always right."

Charlie frowned, not smug at hearing the words all partners love to hear from the the other. Exhaling a haughtily he reached out and lifted Claire's chin so that she had to look into his eyes. In the dim light her pupils were swollen, trying and failing to scrutinize him more closely because of the lack of brightness. "Claire," his voice was uncertain, and she reached for his hand and squeezed.

"I'm sorry." Claire didn't say those two words often, but when she did it was like music to the Englishman's ears. Without another word he pulled her closer so that she was in his arms and let her rest her head on his chest. Then he reached for the baggie and pinched a small portion of powder between his fingers and snorted it up, no regrets and no worries (for the moment, anyway). Claire was doing it. They would be fine. If anything the Heroin was _helping _them through this tough period. Shouldn't that be allowed?

He allowed himself to some more, then rubbed his nose distractedly. Bleary eyed and grinning, he easily let himself fall into the familiar pattern of swimming vision and tilted focus. Claire's hair felt thick and soft beneath his quivering fingertips as he stroked it, and for some reason she bit his earlobe, but they were both laughing so it was all right. Enjoying themselves immensely now that the evening had turned around for the better, Claire didn't hesitate or even feel awkward when she pulled up her boyfriend's shirt, exposing rock hard abs, and blew a raspberry into his bellybutton, making Charlie squeal with laughter like a girl. She joined in, grinning up at him, delighted in her incapacitated state.

Their chuckles receding to a few soft giggles from Claire, they quietened for a minute, Charlie gazing at the girl in his arms with a smile. She would never fail to make her want to be the cause of her sweet sounds of joy. Only when the moon was hanging high in the sky did an alarming though cross the junkie's mind. It had been stupid to leave camp without telling anyone where they were going, grabbing food, or a knife, either. He hadn't expected them to stay as long as this, but now that everything was pitch black and they were indeed still in the same spot without having realized their faux-pas in time, how in good conscience would Charlie be able to lead Claire back to the castaways' beach safely?

The best thing to do would be to stay here. Walking aimlessly through the jungle of frickin' mysteries in the dark would get them nowhere, besides irrevocably lost. But Charlie was by all means not in his right mind, and his heart thudded with fear at the thought of staying put, accepting that he and Claire were alone and defenseless without even trying to find their way. She picked up on his anxiety quick enough, his erratic heartbeat hammering in her ears and scaring her shit less. No, his heart couldn't be failing, not again! She held onto her man more tightly than she ever had before.

"Charlie, what's the matter?" the Aussie's angelic voice broke the silence, her accent lilting with the worry that he was ill.

"Claire..." the way he said her name made her clutch him ever harder and search his shadowed face for stormy, recognizable eyes through the thick darkness encompassing them.

"What is it?" she pleaded, growing panicked and frightened. Claire curled up closer to the Englishman.

"I'm sorry," he stammered, continuing on regrettably, "I don't know how to get back in the dark and it's dark and we have nothing to drink, and-and..." _And I'm scared, _the rock star wanted to add, but knew that if he did it would only terrify the girl with him.

Claire held Charlie's hands, pressing her face into the crook of his neck and trying to block out the horror she felt at being in a place so open and feeling so vulnerable. "But what about Aaron!" she cried out suddenly, flying forward so that she was sitting up. "Charlie, he'll be wondering where I am! Come on, we have to try and get back!"

Silence hung in the darkness between them, drawn out and uncomfortable as Claire thought back on what she had just said. "Oh. That's right," she whispered, and then Charlie could feel her small frame shaking with hushed sobs even though she was working hard to cry without a sound. _Brave girl. Beautiful girl, _he thought to himself.

But finally he rose and pulled Claire to her feet. "We'll try. It's a dangerous game we're playing, but we'll get there, love. It's okay. We're all right." He hugged her to him before ducking his head to kiss her mouth once, then her forehead and the tears from her lashes. Charlie certainly was not sober and he didn't have an idea in which direction they should be heading, but he assured her all the same. He just hoped his foolishness would not be the death of them.

"One second," Claire's soft voice was like a caress. "Where's my bra?" One hand encircling his wrist, his hand protruding from the pocket of his denims, she felt around with the other blindly. Charlie chortled and handed it to her. She took her shirt off to put on the bra, getting him to fasten it in the back, and he thought of what a shame it was that there was no stronger source of light. Relying on touch and focusing on the feel of her soft skin against his rough palms, he satisfied his craving for physical closeness for the time being. Claire pulled on her T-shirt, and they began their walk, seeing nothing but the outline of trees in front of them.

"It's so good to feel support once more," she joked, trying her best to lighten the mood. Charlie chuckled, and held on to her in fear that they would be separated. The world tilted before his eyes, making him dizzy, but along with blood, adrenaline coursed through his veins and gave him hope. One step at a time, that was all it took.

Soon enough Claire was stumbling, she even grazed her knee and when he felt to make sure it wasn't too bad, his hand came away wet with blood. "Oh shit," he mumbled, tearing a strip of cloth from his shirt to wrap up the injury. Claire groaned with pain, and he hoisted her up into a piggy back ride, ashamed at having been the one to lead her into her pain. "You okay now, luv?" he asked her, and she hummed in response. Wonderwall. He couldn't remember if she had known the song before meeting him or had simply heard him strumming it on his guitar.

_Today is gonna be the day that they're gonna throw it back to you._

_By now, you should have somehow realized what you're not to do;_

_I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do,_

_About you now. _

The lyrics unravelled in his head, and soon Charlie was singing aloud, too. She didn't say so, but he could tell that his voice made her more at ease, and so he kept it up. They kept going, both growing more weary and exhausted with each passing minute, until there was a metallic clatter as the young man accidentally kicked a rectangular, steel contraption, which was what he could only assume was the hatch door, labelled 'Quarantine' and everything, though you couldn't tell in the dark.

"Be careful not to step feet first into the hatch. It's a long drop," Claire advised him, her voice sounding a little less frightened than earlier, after she'd just hurt her knee.

Having thought of this, as well, beforehand, Charlie agreed and tested that the ground beneath his feet was solid before taking each step. Finally they were in the grass once more so things sped up, and the two were grateful that they knew they were on the right track toward camp. They talked in low voices, and butterflies fluttered excitedly in Claire's stomach when she saw brightness that meant they had stumbled upon their beach, with the call of their names resounding in the still night air.

"Jack! Sayid!" Charlie responded, his tone alive with joy, and he trotted toward the glow of their torches, Claire still clinging to his back like a frail, exhausted child. Said doctor and Sayid came toward the pair, relief showing clearly in their features as well as exasperated disbelief.

"Where have you two been?" demanded Jack, taking in Claire's bloody knee (the gash was rather bad now that Charlie could see it in the light, and he cringed for her sake) and helping her down from the Englishman's back. "What's the matter with you? You just take off suddenly without telling anyone where you're going. Are you trying to kill yourselves?"

"We got lost," Charlie confessed, willing to put up with Jack's lecture only because he was so glad that they were back. He smiled sheepishly and supported Claire, who was grinning despite the throbbing pain threatening to overwhelm her.

"Truthfully, I am not surprised," said Sayid with a raised eyebrow, but he clapped Charlie on the back nonetheless. "You must take better care of yourselves than this, my friends!"

Claire nodded, and Jack went around to her other side and allowed her to put an arm around his shoulder, and like that she limped over to his medical tent, a bit farther off from the rest of the shelters. After seeing that they had returned mostly okay, everyone else had returned inside their tents to sleep. She wasn't sure, but Claire could guess that it was late from the position of the moon.

Sitting her down on his bed, Jack shone a flash light around his tent, looking for a roll of gauze. He unwrapped a cotton ball and soaked it in rubbing alcohol, then mopped up the blood dripping down her leg with it. The blond hissed at the stinging, squeezing Charlie's hand, but once she was all patched up and the kindly doctor had found a painkiller for her, she smiled at him.

"What would we do without you, Jack?" she asked him, flattering him with her the awe and adoration in her voice. Even though he could have been jealous, Charlie simply nodded enthusiastically, grateful that his friend had bandaged his lover.

"I'm sure you'd manage," Jack returned modestly, flashing a smile. It was rare that either Charlie or Claire received one of these from the surgeon, and they were all the more glad to have been graced with one of the his trademark grins.

Claire covered his hand with her own and Charlie slung an around over his shoulder amicably. "All the same," added the rock star, "we're happy to have you around, mate!"

And then they were returning to their own personal little shelter, past the shore in the moonlight, much like the night Claire had awoken to find her companion's heart still instead of beating. Only this time it was Claire who needed the support.

Desmond watched from a few metres away, wondering whether he should confront the two of them and see if Claire was doing all right. Luckily the Aussie caught his stare and shook her head, giving him a warning look, preventing a late night skirmish between her boyfriend and the Scotsman. Claire didn't mind if she didn't speak with Desmond for a long time to come, and now certainly was not the time for another encounter. She pulled back the flap of their tent and Charlie helped her into one of his more comfortable, over sized night shirts which she regularly slept in, whilst Desmond cursed his luck.

"You're such a courageous girl," Charlie praised her as she lay in his arms, both lying in bed beneath the thin blanket, stroking her golden hair lovingly. "I'm sorry I let us get sidetracked, and that you got hurt."

Claire smiled at him, tiredly, but a smile all the same. "Oh, Charlie, none of that was your fault, not at all! Don't be sorry. I'm glad you were there with me, and this just proves that we can make it through anything. We have enough trust."

"Mmhm," Charlie agreed, kissing her cheek gently. "Sweet dreams, my darling. I love you, you know, Claire." And he was looking at her earnestly, their eyes connected.

Claire raised their linked hands to her mouth and kissed his palm. "I know," and she was glowing with pride and love for the man next to her. "I love you too, my hero, my heart, my everything. Good night."

And slowly but surely they drifted off to sleep, their hands still clasped.

* * *

**A/N: There we go! Finally done. Hope that was enjoyable enough :P Please please please review, this took a really long time and I worked really hard.**

**xox Sacha**


	34. Chapter 34 Flirt

**A/N: Not much to say. Enjoy this one, R&R please!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Lost or any of its characters.**

* * *

Time to Let Go:

It was Claire who awoke first, stretching at the sunlight filtering in through the gap of the tarp which protected their little abode from the elements. Slipping out of bed, she glanced at Charlie and smiled to herself. Inspecting him closely like she had so often those difficult weeks after the incident, her grin widened and she stroked back his hair when she saw that he was looking toned and healthy, despite dark hollows beneath his eyes.

Propping open the lid of her suitcase, the blond rummaged through her clothing for something suitable. Today a casual pale blue v-neck and torn jean shorts caught her eye. Claire was shaking as she slipped into the little number. Groggy and exhausted, getting out of bed and greeting the world when the sun was still so low in the sky was the last thing she felt like doing, but a bizarre restlessness had permeated within her, making her toss and turn beside Charlie.

Claire's stomach churned, sending a flare of nausea shooting through her. Swaying on her feet and feeling a bit sick, she grabbed for the nearest item to stabilize herself. This proved to be an unwise choice of action, for as she came to terms with what she was clinging to a disorienting, heart wrenching pain rushed through her. Little Aaron's cradle, the corners of its bamboo frame digging into her palms and leaving red marks. A little voice inside of her unhelpfully commented that Locke should have filed the rough edges, but as Claire searched the blankets for some form of closeness to her deceased son she cast away such meaningless thoughts.

How long had Aaron's cradle been left unused, gathering dust on its four somewhat wobbly legs?—for the blonde's earlier outburst had had a rather negative effect on the contraption. Claire hadn't counted the days following that devastating event. They passed in a blur of desperation, anxious glances from the other castaways, and brittle contentment that could easily shatter.

Short of breath and on her knees now, the Aussie brought one of the soft, down baby blankets to her face and inhaled the clean, fresh infant scent of her son, which still lingered in the fabric. Her tears soaked the material as she crushed the baby blanket to her chest. Claire felt ashamed that she could act so happy around everyone else in the camp. She cried for herself, she cried for her baby, but most of all she cried for Charlie. Poor, brave Charlie. He was to good to her.

His name coming to her mind, the blond wiped her tears, brought out of her daze and to reality around her. _Stop crying, you, _she told herself firmly, _you don't want to wake him up, do you?_

Claire's stomach churned again, painfully, forcing her to dodge out of the tent and sending her sprawling on the sand. She felt bile rise in her throat and her fingers dug into the sand with the intensity of the horrid feeling welling up inside, her head spinning. And then she was sick, gagging and making horrible sounds. Her eyes were wet and her nose was burning as if she had accidentally scratched her nose after having contact with a spicy jalapeno pepper.

Suddenly, gentle hands lifted her hair and caressed her neck, rubbed her back in slow circles. Another heave of nausea enveloped her, and once more the blond retched, feeling grains of sand embed themselves beneath her fingernails. She spat once, and wiped her mouth, turning and expecting to see Charlie. Instead the person looking down on her was a particular Scotsman whom she wasn't exactly sure what she felt toward. Claire felt a grudging gratefulness and allowed Desmond to help her to her feet.

"Thanks, for that," she looked at the ground, feeling shy for reasons unknown to her. Claire raised her head to see him smiling sheepishly.

"T'was not a problem, Claire," he told her.

Through her feverish haze, Claire attempted to speculate. She still felt like crap, and her mind was reeling. She took one step, stumbled, and Desmond took the opportunity to take her arm and support her. Was he coming on to her like the day before, or was he really only being friendly? Would he tell anyone that she was sick? If no one else, Jack and Hurley would surely know what was going on.

"Ye all right?" he questioned, lifting a hand to press to the girl's forehead. "You're hot." He was being literal, wasn't he? He must know by now that she would not be accepting of his advances on her. Desmond's brow was furrowed as he asked, "Should I take you to Jack?"

"No!" The blonde's harsh tone surprised even herself. "No, don't do that! I'm okay, really." Looking frantic and panicked, her hair in disarray, and her pupils as large as pennies, Desmond did not look very convinced.

"Are ye sure?" He demanded warily, and only when she clung to him so hard her nails dug into his arm did he pull back, hissing, and let the subject drop. "Ouch!"

Claire walked in a dizzy circle, gnawing her bottom lip anxiously. It was a nervous habit she had developed way back in high school, trying to ease the discomfort caused by the snickers about her many piercings and paper planes that tangled in her hair. At the memory, the blond clenched her fists, glancing over one shoulder as if to ensure that no enemies from her past were about to sneak up and play a mean spirited prank on her. Desmond shook her out of her flashback, and Claire smiled a weak smile for him, so that he wouldn't be concerned. She bit down on that sweet spot once more, in an attempt to drive away lingering feelings of anger and regret. Slowly, her aggression ebbed away and Claire was left trying to make her fake cheery demeanour into something real.

"Claire..." He said her name deliciously, savouring it like it was a caramel to melt in his mouth. "Would you join me on a walk?"

Claire looked back at the tent containing the dormant Charlie. How would he feel if he woke up to find her gone, disappeared without a trace? Odds were, he'd blow a gasket. But at that moment, more than anything, the Australian felt the need to walk, to put distance between herself and the site of so many tragic events. So she nodded, letting Desmond tow her into the jungle before she even had the chance to feel any guilt. _Don't think, _she told herself. _Don't feel. Just let it be._

Numb, Claire was pulled along by the Scotsman with weak knees. It was a beautiful day, but the sun shone a little too brightly, burning the blonde's eyes, and the racket of wildlife in the jungle only made her migraine the more piercing. The two of them had barely been walking ten minutes when she sank to the ground, out of breath and dizzy. Desmond stared down at her with unmasked amusement, turning her blood hot with anger and making her glare hard toward him.

"I've known grand-mum's who have more energy than you," he remarked wittily, smiling at his own clever joke. He offered her a hand to grasp.

"Don't you laugh at me, smart ass," Claire snapped, ignoring his out stretched arm and clambering to her feet on her own, at least, if not all that effortlessly. No matter how light and easy he attempted to declare the atmosphere as, a hot coal of resentment burned in the young woman's chest that could not so easily be ignored. A shocked look then a hurt one crossed through Desmond's features. He frowned rather uncertainly, his eyes not quite fixed on the blond before him, whose hands were on her hips in annoyance.

The exhaustion and chaos that had been weighing heavily on her since Claire had awoken that morning bubbled up in her, fuelling her grumpy, disoriented mood and causing her to blurt out, "I don't want to be here! Why do you even try, Desmond?" The words were pouring out of her now, sharp and rushed and stinging, Desmond flushing darker with every syllable. "I don't want to be here. Take me home! I want to go home!"

Desmond erupted in a bout of volume and ferocity, sending pounding pain throbbing at Claire's temples. He paced back and forth a few steps, quite red in the face now, yelling, "Nag nag nag, that's all ye ever do, isn't it princess? Well ye can drag yerself home for all I bloody care! I've no time to deal with those that are to far up their own behinds to realize that everything is not all about them!"

Electricity crackled in the air between them, connecting them although that was not necessarily what was wanted. Both were flustered, panting, and staring at the other with narrowed eyes. Claire felt as if a balloon was swelling with the tension caught between them, growing ever larger and throttling her with the pressure it put on her heart. A hand lifted to her breast, trying to push away the mounting of feelings within her, to cut the connection and walk away. She found that she could not leave, couldn't even look away and break the eye contact she and Desmond were still holding. Then it was almost as if a pop could be heard as the scene reached its climax, as adrenaline and momentum coursed through the two castaways.

In one smooth motion Desmond had stepped forward and pulled the ample blond up against him hard, her heaving chest to his. Her china blue eyes bore into his with an innocent, vulnerable like quality to them. She looked small and terrified--like an animal trapped. "It's all right, luv," he crooned, stroking one cheek with his thumb, his lips descending on hers. There was the slightest brushing of mouths, his wet tongue gliding across her lush bottom lip agonizingly slowly. "It's all good here."

From somewhere within her dazed, dream like state, Claire managed to conjure a smidgen of sensibility as the reality of what was happening came crashing down around her. She reached out and backhanded the man holding her, sending him reeling. "What did you think you were doing?!" she cried out, scrambling to get out of reach. And with that she turned on her heel and departed, her heart pounding in her chest.

Beyond her anger and impudence Claire felt terribly confused. She hated Desmond for this, she really did! How dare he, knowing that she had Charlie in her life? That she disapproved of his forbidden feelings toward her? Oh, but that kiss... It would be etched in her memory for the rest of the day, that much she was sure. But as much as she dwelled on the feel of the Scotsman's hands on her the more she wished to feel Charlie's presence by her side. If Desmond's touch had evoked such a fire of feeling's through her, she could only imagine that her boyfriend's scorch would feel all the better.

Claire returned to the tent confident and fiery and ready to take control, only to see that Charlie wasn't there. It was strange how many different emotions were posessing her, occupying her persona so entirely that nothing else seemed to matter. They ranged from worried about where her love had gone to furious at that god damned Desmond and his perverse daring. Exasperation settled over the Aussie in her impatience to find the former rock star, and aroused and confused she stumbled down the beach.

Claire kicked off her flip flops and crossed the hot white sand barefoot, slipping into the water and wading just past her knees. She nodded politely to those of her friends that waved to her, but none approached until Sawyer. He strode up to her so quietly that she didn't even notice him at first. One moment she was walking alone, and the next he was there beside her.

"Heya, Blondie," Came the Southerner's familiar drawl. Claire couldn't help the smile that stole across her face when he caught her off guard with a dimpled grin.

"Hi, Sawyer," Claire splashed unhurriedly through the water, allowing Sawyer to keep pace with her.

"Long time no speak," he continued, giving her a sidelong look. The set of his jaw and the way he held himself told her that he was feeling awkward around her, embarrassed about something. About _feeling _something, the blond recognized knowingly. "I wanted to make for sure that you've been okay." And despite the disconcerted air about him, she could see something like concern shining in the man's eyes. "And..." He met her gaze slyly, regaining his arrogant facade. "If there was any way I could be of help?"

The last part hung in the silence suggestively, Sawyer-like, but Claire knew that his proposition offered a more sensitive gesture than teasing and flustering her.

Claire ducked her head meekly, feeling put on the spot by the con man's questioning. She cast the feelings aside, ultimately knowing that it was only curiosity and fondness that fuelled Sawyer's inquiry. "Peachy keen, jellybean!" she laughed emptily, making him flinch. Claire dropped her eyes, feeling emotion well up inside. "Listen," she breathed, soft enough that Sawyer had to strain to hear what she was saying. "I'm sorry for that. You were just trying to help." She raised her head, her the corner of her mouth lifting in a wry grin. "It's just been hard, that's all."

Sawyer nodded, looking appropriately empathetic. "I understand, Claire. When I was a kid my ma and pop were killed. I was eight. Just know you're not alone."

Claire smiled shyly at the last part. "I'm sorry you had to go through all that, Sawyer," she murmured, looking him in the eye. She touched his shoulder and then withdrew quickly, and passed a hand over her face wearily.

"You okay, Blondie? Yer lookin' kinda green, y'know."

Claire shook her head and forced a shaky shaky smile. "I'm fine. Just a bit tired. Have you seen Charlie anywhere?"

The need for a fix was growing ever so quickly. Claire asked herself why she was walking along the beach having a heart to heart with Sawyer of all people, instead of darting into the jungle and snorting. _Because there's only so much left, _a little voice reminded her, making her frown suddenly. She couldn't finish the Smack without talking to Charlie to find out what in the world they were going to do next.

"Last time I saw him the little guy was in the jungle choppin' wood. What'd ya need him for?"

Sawyer was grinning wildly, obviously thinking she had something extra special in store for the Englishman. He had no idea that he was indeed correct. Wasn't that the original reason she had set out to find him, anyway? Butterflies shot through her stomach as she imagined her lips pressed to Charlie's.

"Just wondering where he was," the blond replied dryly, looking over her shoulder at him, because Sawyer had halted and was staring at her strangely. "Well, see you later."

Sawyer nodded, and grinned wildly once more. "Nice talkin' to ya Claire."

Claire smiled, genuinely this time. "And Sawyer? Thanks."

The Aussie walked on. She wasn't used to going into the jungle without some sort of escort, but the sounds of wildlife were comforting. She bushwhacked confidently, ducking low hanging branches and evading scraps of metal buried deep into the ground and ready to trip someone. The quickest shortcut to where Charlie was said to be was hazy in her mind, so Claire just kept walking. She was beginning to think she was lost when she heard the pounding of an axe on wood.

"Charlie?" She called, rounding a cluster of trees and smiling when he came into her field of view. He was shirtless, with sweat shining at his brow, looking focused and busy. "Charlie!" At her exclamation the Englishman jumped a little, turning in surprise to see the little blond a few paces behind him. He dropped the axe and reached to take her in his arms.

"Surprising someone like that ought to be banned when they're holding an axe," he joked ironically, embracing her tightly and planting a kiss on the top of her head.

Claire smiled, looking guilty. "Sorry. I was wondering where you were," she told him, leaning her head on his bare shoulder. They sat down on a fallen tree, side by side.

"_You _were looking for _me_?" He questioned incredulously. Then shook his head and raised her gaze to meet his, holding her chin between his strong fingers. "When I woke up you weren't there."

Their surroundings began to swirl before Claire's eyes, and she swallowed, feeling acid coat her throat. "I'm not feeling so well."

Charlie felt her forehead with the back of his hand in concern. "You're a bit warm. Do you need anything?" He stroked her hair, and Claire closed her eyes and leaned into him, more comfortable than she'd been all day. She felt safe.

"There is one thing I need," the blond told him, opening her china blue eyes and meeting his stormy ones.

"What's that?" The musician returned, giving her a squeeze.

Claire reached into her pocket and pulled out the nearly empty bag of Heroin. Charlie asked himself how she had gotten a hold of it. Hadn't he been the last one to have the baggie? Casting aside such thoughts, he concentrated on the subject at hand. Claire was all ready shaking a little mound of powder into her hand.

"There's not so much left," she told him, looking back down at the substance than up at him. "I wanted to talk to you about what we're going to do next before I had another fix," she sighed against the nausea floating in her stomach.

Charlie nodded curtly, taking the bag from her gently, though something inside of the Aussie cried at the loss of the Smack. "I'd say there's about two days worth left," he told her. "For the both of us."

Claire swallowed her retort, that she needed it more than he did. She would have to put up with whatever happened next. "But...what do we do when it's entirely empty?" She wasn't certain she even wanted to hear the answer.

"We quit," Charlie said it so simply that Claire felt the urge to shake him, make him realize the entirety of the situation. "There's nothing else that can be done, Claire," he muttered, seeing her disapproving expression.

Claire brought her cupped hand closer to her face for examination. The pile of cinnamon tinted powder looked small when compared to what they had possessed before. Without hesitating she snorted and then wrinkled her nose up at Charlie. "Is that really necessary? You're certain that there's none left anywhere?"

Charlie nodded impatiently. "Positive, doll. I don't want to quit any more than you do. But it has to be done."

Claire looked away from him resentfully. She knew it wasn't his fault that there was no more of the stuff in stock. If it was anyones fault, it was hers! But as he was the bearer of bad news her upset mood could not be helped. Claire felt every trace of remaining lust disappear from her being.

"Oh Claire," Charlie kissed her gently, and blinking back tears, she kissed him back. She didn't want to be angry with him. "I'm so sorry."

"And you're sure there's none left at the aircraft you went to with Mr. Eko?" She rambled, desperate now. "Come on, there's bound to be a little bit left. Don't deny it, Charlie."

Her vision was black and white, her heart was beating harder with the panic at the thought of no more Junk. No more release. No more feeling almost normal. Only hurt and shame and tears. She felt her light eyes fill but kept her head bent so that Charlie wouldn't see. He would think she was being ridiculous.

"You're being unrealistic," Charlie frowned. "There is none left. Anyway, you never told me where you were this morning." Claire held his hand in her smaller one.

"Like I said, I was sick. I threw up, and then I went for a little walk in the jungle. Then I came back and spoke with Sawyer. I was looking for you."

Charlie straightened suddenly. "You went for a walk in the jungle alone?" He asked, his grip on her tightening.

Claire shrugged. "Well...I wasn't completely alone."

"Who was with you?"

Claire scowled. "Why do you care?"

Charlie sighed, shook his head like he had before. "Whatever. It doesn't even matter, Claire."

And then boldly, Claire shot back, "It was Desmond. He was with me."

Charlie felt as though she had slapped him. He looked to the ground, confused, asking, "Desmond?"

Claire nodded sagely, feeling her veil of dizziness ease a little as the Heroin ran through her blood. "He asked me to go with him."

Charlie gripped her hard, securing her against his chest. "...What happened, then?"

Claire smirked a little. "I backhanded the guy," she informed her man, knowing it was what would make him smile. Charlie didn't disappoint her. He lit up spontaneously, grinning down at her.

"Good girl." And then, "Why?"

Claire rolled her eyes, annoyed at the memory of what Desmond had tried. Didn't he know by now that Charlie was the only guy for her? She wasn't sure if she should fully let on Charlie about all that had happened that morning. But she didn't see any other way out of what the Scotsman had gotten her into. "He tried to put the moves on me," she replied. Saying anything more would only further upset Charlie.

He clenched his fists. "How dare he! I'm going to give him a piece of my mind, the bloody git." He continued to grumble as Claire prepared a fix for him. She stared longingly at the new mound of Heroin in his hand, never taking her eyes off of the dirty blond.

He looked so young sometimes. Without thinking twice, Claire asked, "How old are you, Charlie?"

He laughed, a deep, rumbling sound in his chest. "I'm twenty four, love. And what about you?" It seemed strange to the both of them that they only just found out, but neither commented.

"I'm twenty one," admitted Claire, smiling slyly. "So uh... anything you were up for doing, I would be too." She winked saucily.

Charlie laughed once more, wrapping his arms around her in a big bear hug. "Oh, I love you Claire," He whispered in her ear, his breath hot against her neck.

"I love you too."

Charlie inhaled the toxin into his body. "Well, let's get going." Claire rose, standing before the still seated Charlie and swaying back and forth. He gripped her hips lovingly. Finally she helped him to his feet, and he replaced the baggie in his pocket. Then they were on their way back to the beach.

* * *

**A/N: Well that took a while! Hope you guys enjoyed that. Pretty please review! --With a cherry on top?? =)**

**xox Sacha**

* * *


	35. Chapter 35 Twisted Like a Riddle

**A/N: Sorry for the wait, I had a whole chapter down but it didn't save to my computer =( but here it is, finally! Unfortunately it doesn't quite live up to the original. Some sexual literature, so I would rate this M for safe. And I stole one line from The Host. See if you can find it. **

**R&R!**

**

* * *

**

Time to Let Go:

Charlie and Claire stumbled unintelligibly through the jungle, arms linked, no point to their rambling. One on one time with her man was doing Claire good; she did her best to forget the feel of Desmond's lust, his need for a woman to hold, to focus instead on that warmth for her beau that settled at her core and made her arousal flare. Charlie's hand was snaking around her waist now, and soon she couldn't stand the anticipation. Without thought or hesitation the space between their mouths became nonexistent when the Aussie pressed her lips to his. Her hands entwining in soft, dirty blond strands and every touch with which Charlie graced her sending lines of fire shooting through her entire being.

Everything was slow motion. Claire found herself trying to focus despite the fog that undermined her train of thought, allowing instinct and pure primal want to take over and dictate all actions. This was what she wanted, forever and always. This mellow, syrupy sweet high; groping hands, and the ex rock star with whom she was in a current lip lock. What would be done when a buzz that made her feel so invincible would no longer be attainable?

"You're frisky today, aren't you?" A smile and a saucy wink were sent her way, and Claire only clung to Charlie more tightly, ducking her head to attack his neck and collar bone with hot wet kisses.

"What better way for me to unwind than to wind my darling up?" Came the cocky reply, and the blonde smirked, her hands gliding up his shirt and over rock hard abs. "Plus, I want you so bad," and Claire sighed with contentment.

Charlie chuckled, kissing the sound from her lips. "I'm not complaining," he said, and his hands went to work at her belt, unbuttoning her jeans slowly and with total relish. Once the troublesome article of clothing was out of the way, the Australian was promptly pushed up against a tree, his mouth tracing the outline of her ear and whispering steamily, "I'm going to make you come so hard, baby."

Charlie's trousers joined hers around his ankles, and with great show he hoisted her into his arms with her back against said tree, the bark rough though not unpleasant against her now naked torso, her long legs fastened around his waist. Succumbing to a mesmerizing kiss and emitting a groan as he found his way into her, Claire closed her eyes, concentrating on nothing but the feel of her lover's flesh against her own. "You feel so good between my legs, love," she breathed in response.

His hands slid over her chest, the momentum of Charlie's thrusts beginning to build up, encompassing the two of them into a state of blissful wickedness with an agility Claire hadn't even known her man possessed. He gave in to little nips and other teases from the Aussie with reassuring enthusiasm, moaning her name as they made love and appeasing Claire's worries that she was doing better than fine in the erotic front. It had been almost a quarter and a half year since the last time the blonde had participated in the joy of a sexual frenzy.

Their gazes connected, thoughts of none but each other filling the couple's minds. Oh, the love they felt for each other, the protectiveness, especially the pleasure of at last consummating their feelings! It was heartening, and as they neared the edge, first Claire then Charlie promptly careening into the depths of heavenly satisfaction, both realized for certain that the other would forever be prepared to catch them if one fell.

"I love you." Charlie could spend all day praising his Claire, thought of her every waking moment he lived, but he knew that right now those three words were all that she needed to hear.

Claire smiled, lacing her arms around his neck and laying her head on the broadness of her lover's chest. "I've got you, babe," she replied, and nothing she could have said would have had quite the effect that had. A beam was flashed her way and then Charlie was pulling out, zipping up his pants, obviously about to burst with happiness.

"Come on!" Charlie took Claire's hand, pulling her to him and nuzzling her nose with affection, and then trailing her after him through the flowery clearing in which they wandered.

"Let us go on an adventure, my love," Claire beamed at the suggestion, letting herself be helped down a rocky slope by her man, the rolling meadows surrounding them transforming into a stony creek scene. Absentmindedly, Charlie stumbled ankle deep into the murky water, stooping to stroke a lily pad. Claire waded in the opposite direction, gasping as she pushed aside a gathering of reeds to reveal a brood of yellow ducklings, swimming and quacking after one another genially.

"Oh, look at them, Charlie," she breathed, awed at the sight before her. It was rare to see an animal on the island that no one was prepared to hunt for as their meal. A sense of almost maternal love filled her, right to the brim, and all of a sudden she felt as if she were about to cry. The Aussie bit her lip, hard, to keep from whimpering. It was always a relief to let the tears flow, release all the emotion bottled up within her. But crying all the time just didn't feel _good. _"I can't live this way," she sighed, quietly so as not to make Charlie wonder, her gaze following the duckies protectively, working to keep them in her sight. Her blue eyes looked sad.

An arm went around her waist, and she gasped at the unexpected contact, the clutching hand dampening her shirt. "Charlie," it was a soft sound, abruptly soothed by the embrace given. It was funny how easily he managed to change her moods around, even when that seemed more than unlikely as was often the case.

"Expecting someone else?" His tone was casual, teasing, but the passion with which he held her was obvious. Claire liked that. Seeing the unshed tears lingering on her lashes, his mouth turned down at the corners in a frown instead of the smile he had previously been wearing. "Love? What's wrong?"

Claire grinned weakly, allowing him to press her to him in the waist deep water. It hurt her to see Charlie so worried--she never wanted to see him frown like that. Unfortunately such expressions could not always be helped. "I'm fine," she assured him, turning in his grip so that she was facing the high noontime sun. "Everything is so beautiful... if I didn't know better I would think that nothing here could prove to be the opposite of this joy."

But she did know better. Aaron was dead and their drug was almost all done, and it just wasn't fair! What had the two of them done to deserve this? From then on life could only ever have been half fulfilled, never complete in the way it used to be. And on top of that was the heart wrenching guilt felt on days when things weren't so bad. Four weeks. It was December twenty eighth today, she knew--though it was beyond comprehension why time mattered on a god damned island.

Twenty eight days he'd been gone--why did life and love still go on? It was one of the great mysteries of the heart. And almost Christmas, too! Claire realized this with a jolt, glancing sideways up at Charlie who was chattering away, not seeming to notice anything amiss or that the woman in his arms wasn't really listening. _C'est la vie_, came to mind, and Claire leaned her head back against his shoulder. It was because her Charlie was here to help her carry on, that was the reason she'd survived this long, wasn't it?

"Charlie?" She interrupted him mid sentence, swaying a little with the pounding at her temples. He looked down, confused by the shyness in her tone.

"Claire?" He smiled a little to calm her nerves. He had no idea what was going on in her head--what guy ever had?

"All I want for Christmas," she told him, her hand finding his and squeezing, "is you."

* * *

They made their way down the familiar path back to camp with smiles on their faces, swinging their interlocked hands between them, making idle small talk for the purpose of their own amusement. The questions were irrelevant, but strangely important to their ever growing relationship. It wasn't as if there was much they did not know about one another, but the facts they didn't would soon be discovered. "What's your favourite band, Claire?"

The reply came swiftly. That they hadn't spoken of this before was curious; Charlie was always talking about the type of music _he _liked, but never before had the subject of Claire's favourite band come up. "The Pretenders," she told him, thinking back on childhood memories the name brought back. "No, wait.. the Beatles!"

The hand stroking her cheek was rough, callused from playing guitar and lugging around the axe to chop wood. But Charlie cupped her face gently, making her sigh and lean into his palm. "I love you," he told her, for the second time that day. He planted a kiss on the top of her head in show of his affection.

"I love you more," she stuck her tongue out, peeking open an eye to see his reaction.

Charlie chuckled, shaking his head as if this were nonsense. "Not likely."

Claire frowned, pulling away slightly, ruffled. "What makes you think that?" Her tone was slightly sharper than intended, and she softened it so as not to cause conflict. "Now that Aaron--Aaron's gone... you're the only thing that I love. I would do anything for you, Charlie. I would die for you."

They both knew it was true. "I know," he told her seriously, leaning in and closing the distance between them to catch her pouting lips in a kiss. "The feeling is mutual, Claire. More than you could ever know." He got down on one knee, and Claire had to laugh at his antics. It felt almost as if he were about to propose marriage--though how on earth such a ceremony could be done now that Eko was dead and buried was well beyond her. "Claire Littleton, I worship you!"

The blonde laughed, pulling him up to a standing position once more and lacing her arms around his neck, nuzzling his nose, all forgiven for the moment. "You're silly," she told him, and tousled his hair. He lifted her into his arms and walked the last few steps to their tent, smiling at Claire's giggle as the rest of the castaways watched them, fascinated. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."

Charlie set her on their makeshift bed, gentle as ever. As he always was where Claire was concerned. She didn't feel great, not fantastic as she had earlier, and he could tell. "You doing okay, love? You look a bit queasy." He petted her pale forehead, ensuring his voice was low so as not to trouble her pounding head.

"Uh huh," she murmured, her eyes sliding closed for a few brief moments. Her long lashes cast spidery shadows on her pallid cheeks. Her lids opened once more and Claire forced a smile. "Absolutely fine. Just a little tired, you know," and he did. The consummation of their love had taken a lot out of both of them, and she had all ready been feeling unwell. Despite her reassurances, Charlie began to worry, but put on a smile all the same

"Of course, I understand." He patted her foot comfortingly, brushed back her hair. "Why don't you sleep for a little while, my love? I've some things to take care of."

The Aussie's brow furrowed, making her look upset, and her hold on his hand became suddenly tight like a vice. "No! Stay with me, won't you?"

Charlie groaned, but nodded all the same. "Why, though?" She wouldn't know the difference if he left or not.

It became a struggle to keep her eyes open, to remain alert, and Claire frowned at her exhaustion. Something wasn't right, and she could feel it. What was he up to? "Because," she told him, thinking hard for a better reason than that. Coming up with none, she settled with, "please? Please, Charlie."

A sigh, and Charlie agreed. "Okay," he told her, settling comfortably (but not enough so that he too would fall asleep) beside her. "Just for you, Claire."

It was like magic how her troubled expression transformed into one of peace at his words. Once more her eyes shut, but this time she kept them that way. "Okay," and her golden head lolled comfortably on his chest. "Love you, baby."

He would depart once it was absolutely certain that she was asleep. "Night, girl." And she was out.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, so there it is. Finally. Please review, it would mean ever so much to me and will make me write fasterr! Thank you && see you soon. **

**xox Sacha  
**


	36. Chapter 36 Say That you Love Me

**A/N: Another chapter! hurray. Please review, I'll be your best friend :) Lots of swears in this one, just so you know! sorry for the long wait.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Lost or any of it's characters.**

* * *

Time to Let Go:

Filled with tension and an anger that formed his resolve, Charlie headed for that son of a bitch Scotsman. He'd kissed Claire. So Charlie was going to wring his neck. A wolfish smirk twisted his mouth, naturally, for the man deserved what he had in mind. Charlie was even amazed himself by how much anger and betrayal he felt.

Desmond had let them down, there was no doubt about that. Yet at the same time he had been able to trust the man who promised not to let his and Claire's lives become endangered. Charlie shook his head, his mind muddled. He looked somber now, cold and unfeeling to disguise the hurricane of emotions inside-- walking with purpose, trying not to feel the hurt, the after tones of his buzz turning his head in wonder at everything with intrigue. Sea gulls flew overhead, and he was too distracted to notice when Kate joined him at his side.

"Hey you," she greeted him with a smile. It felt far too long that he had spoken to her, so he returned her one of his own, grateful through his pain of having run into her.

"Hi Kate. What have you been up to?" He asked as they fell into step side by side, shielding his eyes from the sun that felt like it was blinding him. It seemed like Jack and Sayid and Kate, the Golden Trio (as he & Claire good naturedly identified them), were always busy with something important to do. Dealing with the Others or trying to further their chances of getting off the back of this turtle they were so lost on.

"Don't have too much planned for today," she told him, and here she grew wistful. "It's nice to have time to myself for the first time in a while."

"That's right," came the reply, perhaps a bit short, and Charlie knew what she was talking about. Too bad he himself had yet to experience such an occasion as of late. He softened his expression at the worry shining in her eyes, chuckled and added, "As if we didn't have all the time on the world on this god forsaken island!"

Kate laughed, too, obvious in her relief of his cheery enough demeanor. She became serious, however, in how she straightened and looked to him with her mouth open to speak. He could tell she was hesitating, uncertain of how he would react, and he thought he frowned a little in response to this prospect. The brunette seemed to guess what he was thinking and smiled comfortingly at him. "How _are_ you?" Three words, and he could also tell that she genuinely needed to know the answer.

A sheepish smile spread across Charlie's face. Kate had always been good to him and to those others of the castaways all together. That was one of the reasons he was so proud to be her friend. And it felt good to be doted upon every now and then after everything that had happened over the last few weeks. He paused before he answered for a moment, thinking upon how to explain to her what did and didn't bother him about his and Claire's immense loss. To tell her the full story of things would only unnecessarily upset her, so he would have to lie to her a bit.

"Things are good for the most part," he told her, earnest, because it was true. "Claire is reasonably happy, and I can find even laughter through out the hours on most days... But that hasn't erased the pain of losing Aaron."

Kate nodded, understandingly. She'd always been a very good sympathizer. "Oh, Charlie," she patted his back, her brow furrowed at his chagrin. She was sincere in her anxiety over their unhappiness. "I'm glad things have been going all right for you, though," and she smiled, the atmosphere lightening. Charlie nodded, and forced a smile (he was just itching to find Desmond and pummel him!) which quickly transformed into a real one.

"Thank you, Kate," he allowed her to embrace him promptly, smiling down at her when she glanced up at him. "For everything. Coming to talk to me. For caring." It meant so much more than she even knew.

Kate shrugged, and disentangled herself from her friend's arms, not hurriedly. "It's no problem, Charlie. You and Claire are my friends. I know you would do the same for me." He was appreciative that she chose to acknowledge this notion. She was soon walking away across the white sand, but so that she was still facing him. "Well, I can tell you're a man on a mission, so I'll leave you be! Talk to you soon, okay, Charlie?" She gave a finger wave, and beamed.

Charlie couldn't help grinning back at her. "Sounds like a plan," he called, nodding his affirmation. "See you later!" He lingered there a little longer, watching her walk away. Kate was a very special person. He realized not if he hadn't before that though Desmond had it out for him, there were still fascinating people like her who cared about him and his Claire.

That was good. This camaraderie with the rest of the cast aways--save one in particular-- offered the loyalty and acceptance he had never really experienced anywhere else, except now that he had Claire in his life. Especially not when he'd stood by Liam's side. When the plane had first crashed Charlie thought upon his brother with bitterness, still troubled by the way they had ended things with each other. He missed him now, never knowing when he would see his older brother again; but at the same time that was all right with Charlie for the mean time, as the hurt of Liam's past decisions was as vivid as a fresh coat of paint. And anyway, Claire was here, and they were going to be together forever.

He walked on, approaching Desmond's tent nonchalantly and pulling back the tarp. The Scotsman was lounging on his makeshift bed wearing only a grey wife-beater that exposed his muscular arms, a rectangle of paper on his lap. His brown eyes glanced up when Charlie started forth for him. He stopped short, appalled, to find that the man's eyes were glistening with tears.

"What the hell do ye want?"

He didn't say it as respectfully as Charlie would accept, and this made the blood pound in his ears once more. "How the fuck can you ask me that you bloody git? You think you can bother my girlfriend and not suffer the consequences?" They scowled at each other resentfully, both as obstinate as the other. Charlie didn't near feel threatened, but it came as a surprise that Desmond was standing up to him. He had always figured the man was weak for being for a drunk and because of what a lunatic he was. Go figure.

Desmond grew a little flustered. He had not expected to get away with kissing Claire, had known that dealing with Charlie would be a consequence. But it had been worth it and he wasn't going to go down without a fight. "I got caught up in the moment," but the reproachful way Desmond was glaring at him told the musician not to accept such an unworthy excuse. It wasn't even the apology that he deserved!

The Englishman grabbed him by the toned shoulders, pulling him closer until they were nose to nose. "Don't push me, Des," that look in his eyes was a warning. Desmond shoved him off, scowled as Charlie paced. He picked up what turned out to be a photograph on his way, what had been the paper rectangle he'd seen, and wondered. A pretty blonde woman was cuddled up to the very man before him. His next words were blunt, mocking, "Is this what was making you cry?"

Desmond snatched the photo from his hands quick as a whip. "What makes ye think ye can just barge in here, mate? Are ye looking to be put in your place?"

Charlie chortled, nodding with a sarcastic grin, "Yeah, okay. Show me what you've got, champ."

Unexpectedly, Desmond shook his head. "I don't want to fight ye, Charlie." This reaction was much different than what Charlie had expected. The Englishman chuckled darkly, a certain menace about him. Suddenly, in one quick motion, Charlie's fist flew toward Desmond's face, striking the handsome curve of his cheekbone just below his right eye with impact obsolete.

"Well, _I_ want to fight with _you_."

Desmond swore loudly, sent reeling from the blow. "You're a right arse, ye know that?!"

"Who is the girl in the picture?" He returned, shrugging self assuredly, his tone sharp. "Tell me Desmond. Who is she?"

Desmond's jaw set, his eyes blazing defiantly. "None of ye're god-damn business!"

Charlie caught him in a head lock. "Why do you love Claire so much?" He asked suspiciously, eyes narrowed at his protector of sorts.

With a sigh the question was responded to. "I don't love her. Penny is the one for me--but, but everything about Claire fascinates me. She has come to mean very much to me." The excuse was weak, and Charlie bristled. 'My woman', he kept wanting to declare. '_Mine.' _

Charlie's expression changed to a grimace. "You're obsessed with her!" It wasn't an accusation, it was in the style of making some grim discovery, his voice soft and eyes hard. This scenario so reminded him of that horrible Ethan. He shuddered.

"But here's what's going to happen," continued Charlie, eager to end this conversation as soon as possible. The anger toward the man had disappeared replaced by the extreme want to leave and get away from this place and Desmond himself. "You will apologize to Claire," without hesitating, he twisted Desmond's arm when he looked about to protest. "You _will."_

"Fine," bit the Scotsman in response, glaring stonily at the other man. "But I won't mean it."

In all honesty, Desmond _was _sorry. Great shame surged through him at the memory of the kiss he had stolen from Claire, and from Charlie too, really. He felt like a rat enough as it was that the dilemma of Charlie's attack was getting on his nerves. But despite the Scotsman's self ill feeling and the negativity he was emitting, refusal to admit his mistake, right now, was set in stone. He would never apologize, not with the way Charlie had approached him.

"Ye're lives are still in my hands, brother." He felt horrible saying it, but Desmond was glad that he had managed to wipe the antagonistic smirk from the ex rock star's face.

Charlie felt a pang, mouth wide open with shock, facade gone--or at least for the time being. The only person he could truly be himself with, who understood and supported him through and through was Claire. Despite the lifestyle he'd lived as a well known performer, he had been isolating himself but for with Claire after the two of their lives had been changed forever. Although his distance seemed to be changing for the better lately, the trauma of Aaron's death would always be a burden to bear.

Charlie scowled, Desmond's shirt crumpled in his clenched fist. "A first class jerk is what you are," he growled. "You gave Claire and I your word that you were going to warn us about any premonitions you experience, keep her safe. Don't tell me you're going to go back on that." A shiver ran down the young man's spine at the thought of his precious lover in harms way and the last part came out pleadingly, making Charlie suddenly seem less threatening and more vulnerable.

Desmond heaved a heavy sigh, slapped at Charlie's hands until the blond released him. "Look, mate. I don't want to fight; that was never my objective or intention. I shouldn't have done what I did, I'll admit it. You have to understand; I couldn't help myself."

Desmond's desolate expression made him appear earnest, but Charlie couldn't seem to see past his would be friend's outrageous behaviour. Everyone knew that Claire was his girl, that it was him and she forever and no other. Although part of him wanted to forgive the Scotsman, put this incident behind them and be protected under his wing with the reassurance that he was friend and not foe--a much bigger need to right himself, protect his Claire from Desmond's corrupting influence, and maintain the little family that was all they had left jarred him to the bones. No way would Charlie let the guy get off that easy.

"Don't try to justify what you did, you sick bastard," he hissed, glaring up at the stockier man, who was also almost a head taller than him but did not posses strength greater than his own. Although there was part of his being that would never come to life again from the trauma he'd been through, Charlie's spirit made up for any advantage Desmond had over him. "You're trying to ruin my life! You've seen what we two have already been through, you have-- and yet you're going to cause more trouble and tears." Charlie's own vivid blue eyes filled, as against his will as ever, and he dropped his gaze so he would not have to meet Desmond's pitying stare. The hot tears flowing down his cheeks felt childish, and he resented that anger and disappointment tended to cause bawling on his part, particularly while he'd been growing up.

"Charlie," The Scotsman reached out a hand and touched the younger man's shoulder, tentatively, but kept it there with a sort of guilty resignation until the blond shrugged it off. "Ye know that's not true. The last thing I want to do is cause ye and Claire any more grief-"

"Well then why did you?!" Charlie had whirled around to glare at him defiantly, chin raised and arms crossed over his chest. He appeared to have regained control of himself, for tears no longer fell although the trails the earlier ones had left were clearly visible. "Much as I hate to acknowledge it, you're not stupid, Des. I know you know that, with cause, always comes reaction. I didn't think you would act without thinking about the consequences of what you did." He finished sadly, not bothering to mask the discouragement in his tone as he frowned at his shoes. He had felt angry on his way here and for a good long time at Desmond--hell, he still was! But the white hot rage that had taken over in the heat of the moment had retreated somewhere deep inside himself, leaving only remorse and betrayed bitterness in its wake.

All was silent for a moment, both uncomfortable, unsure what do to with their hands or how to stand in the midst of this awkwardness between them. Finally, Desmond spoke. "I don't know what to say," he stated monotonously, but the expression he wore looked desperate somehow, frantic for some sign of forgiveness that was not in the frown Charlie was displaying. "All I can say is that I'm an arse, aye, an' I know it. But there is nothing I can do to change the past. I want us to be able to trust each other, help each other in times of need. Please tell me I've not ruined that?"

Desmond seemed almost actually regretful. Charlie wished he could truly believe that the other man was. He didn't reply at first, just squinted at Desmond with open hostility, although his heart wasn't really into it. He'd walked here steaming mad and was leaving on the verge of more tears, ones that he bit the inside of his cheek not to let show. When he did answer his voice seemed to echo with finality, like he was deciding to put a stop to their conversation, like he made up the script. "Not good enough. I wish this wasn't the way things had to be between us, Des; I really do."

"Then accept my sincere apology! Let's put this behind us!" Desmond sounded disbelievingly incredulous, at both the amends he was not making with the musician and Charlie's total dismissing of his apology.

Charlie all ready had his back turned, was walking away. "Should have thought about that before," the edge in his voice was flat and ice cold, like that of a knife. "Well, ciao, Desmond. Won't be seeing ya. And hear this, or you will be very sorry--and I'll make sure of it! Stay the fuck away from Claire." He paused to glare daggers at the man over his shoulder, eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. "I mean that. And Desmond? I will never trust you again. So long as I live, I will not trust you."

Then he was gone. Desmond bit back a sob once the tarp flap of his shelter had fallen back into place and he was left staring only at his shadow. Boys weren't supposed to cry. He stayed standing there for how long he didn't know, although eventually it grew so dark that he could not see his shadow anymore. He fell back onto his sleeping mat tiredly, so tired. More tired than he'd felt ever in his life, except perhaps that night at the football stadium so long ago, the last time he'd seen Penny outside of his dreams. Coincidentally, also the night he had met Jack for the first time.

Gazing into the photograph Charlie had snatched up earlier, what felt like a hundred years ago, Desmond stilled. This picture, the only memento he had of his love so far away, had always managed to ease his suffering when missing Penny got so bad it began to feel like a flesh wound. Tracing that pretty face with his little finger, he wondered how he could have ever been so bold as to kiss Claire, in the first place. It was Penny who had his heart, who always had and always would, and he could scarcely believe he'd committed such a deceiving sin despite their love, despite their separation, even though he remembered the need to hold that glorious Aussie well. He really was sorry, he found, more so than he had been before--because if Penny were ever to lust on another he wouldn't be able to bear it, and even though she knew nothing about his dishonesty, shame filled him like he couldn't believe.

Desmond had not known jealousy well, because he had never seen his lover in the arms of another man. But as more guilt stewed within him restlessly, he could imagine what such an ultimate betrayal would feel like. "Is this what I've done to Charlie and Claire?" He asked himself, the photograph close to his heart, sick with emotion as the realization hit. How could he have? "What a horrible bugger I am." At that moment he really felt that it was true.

He would try again, he decided wildly, turning onto his stomach uncomfortably, photograph still held out before him to examine. Reconciling with the two he had hurt and let down so badly was a must. Soon enough, he would make another attempt and be graced by the mercy of forgiveness, which would hopefully give rest to his guilt and pain at the hurt he could have caused Penny. He hadn't realized how much until now, but the two of them were important to Desmond, and so he would try again. That was a promise, and despite the pessimism running through him, he managed to get some sleep.

**With Charlie and Claire...**

Charlie wasn't sure how long he had spent confronting Desmond, but it was darker outside by the time he left the Scot's tent, although the day was by no means over. All the stinging disappointment, anger, and sadness that Desmond didn't deserve his forgiveness had formed into a sort of grim acceptance of the fact that his would be friend wasn't going to change. _I knew he was trouble,_ he thought, shuffling through the pureness of white sand to the tent he shared with Claire. _Right from the first moment we had an actual conversation, when he was bothering Claire and_-gulp-_Aaron so long ago, I knew he wasn't one of the good guys. _The dimness of evening shadowed the paleness of the ground, matching the darkness Charlie felt in his heart.

But even though he knew not to place one ounce of trust in Desmond any longer, Charlie couldn't help dwelling miserably on the past. Desmond had helped him back to camp the first time he'd used again, after his kid's death, when he'd been too disoriented and sick to make his way there by himself. 'Can you give us a hand?!' Charlie had demanded, panicked, when Eko lay wounded and unconscious during the implosion of the hatch. Desmond had yelled back, 'I'm trying, brother!' Charlie hadn't really believed him at the time, but had later on discovered that the only reason he hadn't died that day was because of the Scotsman.

_It's a shame I can't believe in him anymore,_ the musician lamented, although he didn't know why he still wished he could when he was very aware of the intensity with which Desmond was lusting on the love of his life. Through the haze of thoughts and emotions, Charlie knew only one thing for sure. Desmond _was _going to protect Claire, and hopefully himself from any possible danger he knew about. Or Charlie was going to make him sorry they had ever ended up on the same island. He was still walking, slowly, deep in thought when he spotted Jack. _Oh joy, my favourite person,_ even though Charlie wasn't sure what exactly Jack had done to deserve his irritation.

"Hello," he greeted, for it was only the polite thing to do, as the doctor approached. He tried for a smile but could tell from the unfortunate understanding in Jack's eyes that it didn't look authentic.

"Hello yourself," Jack nodded respectfully. "How goes it, Charlie?"

Charlie could only shrug. "Been better," he confided in the older man, feeling a little better and more trusting toward the man who had once saved his life and whose life he had once saved as he slung an arm over his shoulders. There was no reason to feel threatened or suspicious of Jack; he wanted only what was best for him and Claire, to make sure they were dealing well with the misfortune that had befallen them. "Been worse, though, so it's no big deal. What are you up to?"

Jack smiled gently, but his eyes looked sad. "Well, good. That you're not in over your head, I mean--" Charlie found that he simply could not take offence to the doctor's unconscious patronizing as he would have only thirty days, or so, ago. That was just Jack, and Charlie didn't blame him for acting a little superior. Things like that just didn't bother him anymore. "Just doing rounds, you know, check ups. You in need of one?"

Charlie smiled. Jack was ever hard working, always ready to give just a little bit more, devoting his time to help people who could not return the favour if the roles were reversed. "I dunno," he shrugged, "you tell me."

Jack chuckled softly, tilting Charlie's chin to better see his eyes, pressed a hand to his heart to feel its beating and ensure it was normal. Since the night Claire had rushed to him with info that something was the matter with Charlie, the issue of his heart had not progressed, luckily. Jack didn't know exactly what had happened that night, and as he'd been out like a light Charlie had no idea. But if anything the doctor would guess that Charlie had taken too big of a hit on the Smack he was stoned off of right now, and had almost died.

"You seem fine," he reassured the Englishman. "You're on it right now, aren't you?" Jack didn't need to elaborate. Charlie knew what he was referring to perfectly well. The leader of the castaways, for that was pretty much what Jack was, found he couldn't be angry with Charlie for going against his wishes and using.

Charlie sighed, feeling a little shameful, but not enough that he became defensive. "You can't really blame me, can you?" He asked softly, though he knew Jack probably could if he tried. "There's barely any left... When it's all gone it will be the end of it. I'm sorry we took it back, but, well... we needed it."

"We?" Slip of the tongue, Charlie realized dismally, too late. "You mean... Claire's using too?"

Charlie sighed again. "Yes." No point in lying when Jack could easily march to their tent and look into Claire undoubtedly glazed eyes, too.

"Charlie! How could you let that happen?" Jack looked disappointed, but not angry like the ex rock star had expected.

"The first time she tried it I had no idea. When I told her we were going to stop, the both of us, she cried, Jack! She threw a fit. It's almost done, what does it matter that we finish it off?"

Jack sighed too now. "I don't agree, but I guess it's not my place to control your lives. I know, if anything, your objective is only to take care of Claire. I know that. But Charlie, is it really almost finished?" Looking a little stern now.

"Yes," he responded seriously, looking up and meeting Jack's concerned eyes. "I promise. I swear. After that we'll be going through painful withdrawal--though it couldn't be any more painful than what we have already been through. And we'll heal, and hopefully return to normal, even though I'm not sure that's exactly possible." Charlie wrung his hands, feeling awkward bearing his soul to someone that was not Claire. "I won't ever be the same as I was."

A little shudder seemed to work through the older man, as if he was reliving his failure to save Aaron. "I know that. Just please stay true to what you're telling me, Charlie. This has got to stop. It's not good for you guys." And Charlie knew that he was only saying this because he cared, not because he was in the mood for preaching.

"I will," and at the time he really meant it. "But if you'll excuse me I've got to go see Claire, she was sleeping when I left and I have a feeling she won't be too happy about that." He gave a sheepish smile, which Jack returned, and they hugged quickly because it wasn't masculine to be caught embracing ones doctor, with tear tracks still visible on your face, in the openness of the beach for no obvious reason.

"All right, I'm holding you to that. Take care of yourself, Charlie, and of Claire. I'll catch you later!" And with that the doctor had turned around and headed to Juliet, who was sitting by the fire with a can of creamed corn, being eyed by a jealous Kate. Charlie wondered what was going on there, but had too much on his mind to decipher body language and what this could all mean.

He took a few more strides until he was facing the entry of their tent, eyeing it a little apprehensively. There was nothing for him to feel guilty about, but he got the feeling she wouldn't be happy that he had left while she was sleeping when she had specifically asked him to stay. Even if they had only known each other for a few months, they had been through hell and back together. Also and at last, Charlie recollected with satisfied buoyancy, they had consummated their love for each other. He entered the tent without a second thought.

It was difficult to tell whether the Aussie was awake and alert at first. Her doll like form was sprawled across the two sleeping pads, found in the cockpit long ago, and thin sheets they used for bedtime. "Claire honey? You awake, babe?" He sat down next to her, nudging her jean clad thighs with his lap. No response, but he felt her body tense up under the arms he wrapped around her middle, and for a second experienced a jolt of panic that had him shaking her, not hard, but none too gently either.

"Jeezus, Charlie!" She sat up despite his embrace, brow furrowed and blonde tresses swinging, an expression of brief annoyance crossing her pretty face. "What was that for?"

Charlie frowned, stroked back hair the colour of wheat shot through with strands of gold. "I'm sorry, my lovely little love." It was all he could say, and by the way Claire rolled her eyes, even an infinite amount of pet names were not going to get the man off the hook. She arched an eyebrow, crossed her arms over her chest obstinately, but her eyes looked sad.

"You left while I was sleeping," she mewled, her angry facade giving way to a look of soft grief that almost made him want to weep. Then, blue eyes hardening, "You broke a promise!"

Charlie sighed, shook his head. But he had a perfectly good reason! "Oh darling," he pulled her back against him from where she'd been inching away, held on tight until she gave in and pressed her cheek to his chest. "I could not be more sorry. I had to see Desmond, give him a piece of my mind--it couldn't wait. You understand that, don't you?"

Pondering why this was such a big deal to her and fighting back tears, Claire nodded. "You could have at least woken me!"

Here, though, Charlie disagreed. "You so rarely sleep well at night--don't try to deny it, because I _know_. I didn't have the heart to wake you. I'm sorry dear."

The Aussie sighed into the soft cotton of his T-shirt. "What does it matter? If I want to be with you, that's my choice. I didn't want you to leave me, and because you did you could have at least given me the option of coming along..." She tried and failed to swallow the painful lump in her throat. Now she recognized why she was so upset; Claire felt abandoned and unstable and insecure knowing that Charlie had left her so easily against her wishes. "What did you have to say to Desmond that I wasn't allowed to hear? ...Didn't you want me to come too?"

Once more, Charlie didn't know what to say. _Of course I didn't,_he thought about telling her, then thought better of it. Claire was the last person he wanted anywhere near the Scotsman, even if he was responsible for her safe keeping and owed her a sincere apology. Instead he took her chin in his hand, lifting her face so that their blues eyes were gazing into each others. "I will not ever, ever leave you, Claire. You know that, right?"

She didn't answer, and without thinking, Charlie did what his gut told him to. Captured her mouth with his, lips parting hers, their tongues meeting in bliss. She gasped in surprise, but the sound was soon forgotten in the passionate soul-kissing that ensued. Deciding to forgive him, seemingly, she laced her arms around his neck, pulling him closer so that their hearts were touching and beating together through their chests. When they finally pulled apart, both were breathless.

"That's my answer," she panted, all seriousness in her tone, but smiling gently. She kissed his cheek, lips brushing the cuteness of a dimple, making Charlie grin. "I love you," she told him, "even if I get irritated with you sometimes. Remember forget that, okay, Charlie?" She needed to know that he would always know the way he made her feel, no matter what, and got the feeling he could sense that this was not some unimportant request she had like not to leave her while she slept. No, she really needed the reassurance that through thick and thin they would always be together.

"I won't, my love," Charlie promised, breathed in her ear sending delicious shivers up Claire's spine, "my angel, my heart. You remember it, too, all right? No matter what?" He gave her a quick squeeze, lying back on their makeshift bed with her in his arms.

"No matter what," she affirmed, letting him rub her back in slow, soothing circles. "We'll be together."

That, also, was a promise.

* * *

**A/N: hope you guys liked that. Took aaaages to write! pleasepleaseplease review, it shall make me write so much faster and give me more inspiration. I don't think there will be too much left with this fic, ten more chapters at the most. once again, please review!**

**xox Sacha**


	37. Chapter 37 Nothing is Ever As it Seems

**A/N: Thanks especially to ILoveNeil for the lovely (and only) review! You are my star. Hope you guys enjoy this one, even if it is only one person reading. As far as I know. Oops, do I sound bitter? Just joking =) No but seriously, if you're reading this right now, a review would be nice.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Lost or any of its characters.**

* * *

Time to Let Go:

Claire would have been happy to remain in her lover's arms for all eternity. She sighed contently into Charlie's abdomen, enjoying the feel of his talented (in oh so many ways) fingers sifting through long blonde strands, massaging her scalp to help her relax. It was a perk, and not necessary, because unless one of the two of them were in danger or they were in the middle of a row of some kind, being in Charlie's company was always enjoyable. This time was always used to unwind.

You'd think that, given all the time in the world that they posessed so isolated here on the island, she could feel carefree and lighthearted mostly every moment. But that was was not a fact. Despite her comfortable position practically laying in Charlie's lap and her eyes closed, she was really thinking hard.

Desmond had kissed her today. It wasn't that it hadn't felt nice, because, guiltily, Claire had to admit that it had. But when the butterflies swarming her tummy had turned to numb shock at his boldness, then confusion and heart wrenching guilt for such an incredible betrayal of her man, the good feeling had dissipated entirely. Leaving only fury that the Scot had dared do such a thing he knew was prohibited, knew she didn't want him to, and bitter sorrow that Charlie might think his special role in her life was being replaced.

Because it so wasn't! Claire experienced a fresh wave of anger as she recalled the feel of Desmond's lips on hers, so powerful that she had to lock her jaw to keep from grinding pearly white teeth together. It wasn't that she liked Desmond, in that way or any since she'd discovered he had played a large part in the death of her child (although no greater than her own, she couldn't deny that), but now she couldn't seem to get him out of her mind. He was a rather attractive fellow, yes, if you were into that rugged, barely sane look. However, no one made her heart beat faster like Charlie did, no one could bring her arousal to its highest peak like he could, and that would never change.

_The bastard,_ she thought furiously, nuzzling Charlie to calm herself. _I don't even like him. Truly. Why can't I just forget all about him and try to enjoy some quality time with Charlie? _But recalling Desmond's stolen kiss filled her with guilt and hatred and humiliation, to the brim, so entirely that she simply could not let the issue go.

"Charlie," she sat up, against him, perched on his knee. "You never did tell me what happened between you and Desmond back when you went to speak to him." It wasn't a question, and Charlie therefore did not feel inclined to answer. At least not directly.

"Didn't I? Thought I all ready had, poppet. Must be going barmy," he went cross eyed, making Claire giggle, but only for a moment. Then she was all business once more.

"You most certainly did not," she informed him primly, looking down her nose in an imitation of high society. She was only teasing, though. However much she may want answers, to know what she had missed out on while fast asleep, keeping the atmosphere light was crucial. Demanding to know what had happened between the two men brusquely would get her nowhere, and only spoil their moods and this moment. No, the trick was to butter Charlie up.

"Sorry," he murmured, his mouth at her ear, breath hot on the back of her neck. "I guess I dropped the ball. My arse isn't constantly in gear the way yours is, you know," this with a little tap to her behind, making Claire laugh once more, however much against her will. Charlie had that effect on her.

"Oh, I know _that's _true," she shot back, grinning like a half wit and kissing the corner of his mouth chastely. They sat together in companionable silence for a few moments, taking in the sights and sounds and smells of each other like they were never going to see one another again; the soft pound of Charlie's heartbeat, reassuring Claire that he was okay, not like he'd been when it had stopped. His beautiful baby face, with that charming, boyish smile--smooth because, for once, he'd shaved. Not to mention that musky, manly scent of ocean and campfire smoke and sweat that was only him and created an appealing enough medley to dazzle her senseless.

After a while, though, Claire's patience was fading. "Well, are you?" She asked, slowly, like she was trying to communicate with someone from another hemisphere, who spoke a different language. Charlie mussed up her hair, took his time in answering, trying to see just how far he could push her before her brow crinkled in that pout he found so adorable. Unaware that right now, Claire wasn't up for being pushed.

"I suppose so," he told her, just as she'd opened her mouth to prompt him once more. She shut it with a snap, eager to hear what had happened only a little while ago across the beach in Desmond's tent, all ears. "Although I don't see why it matters. What's done is done, Claire, and Desmond knows that unless he says a very sincere sorry to you, and stays far away from then on, I'll finish him."

Claire bit her lip, more upset than she should be at the time it was taking to gather the information she wanted. "Oh, do shut up and tell me what happened!" She cried suddenly, catching the man in whose arms she was settled off guard.

Charlie waggled his eyebrows, laughing mentally at what he guessed to be simply premenstrual syndrome sharpening his beloveds tone. He knew better than to ask her if this was the case, and said instead, "I can't very well tell you what happened if I'm to shut up, can I? You can't have it both ways, love!" and winking at her look of outrage.

Claire refused to take the bait. "Please," she sighed, counting to ten in her head to keep from biting his head off, "tell me what happened, Charlie?" In her moodiness she'd forgotten the knowledge of what it took to make him spill: sweet talk. Why _was _she so moody, anyway? _I need a hit,_ she realized, shuddering at the sudden need she felt for just that.

Charlie smiled, smugly, like a fool in Claire's opinion. Sometime or another he would have to find out just how many times he was able to make her say please... "That was all you needed to say," he confided, chuckling. And despite her annoyance with him the Aussie couldn't help but find him adorable. She squeezed his hand, let him know she still loved him even if he could be the biggest pain in the arse around.

The blonde settled herself comfortably once more, ready to be let in on the information she craved. "Go ahead," she encouraged, when she caught him scrutinizing her body from toes to torso, felt his gaze on her mouth. "I'm listening," and batted her lashes, dazing him momentarily with the sensuality of her allure.

"The son of a bitch tried to apologize once or twice," he began, feeling at once more at ease in his own skin as Claire fastened an arm 'round his midsection and rested her golden head against his chest, "but that was only after I roughed him up a bit. The jerk had the audacity to threaten us!" A little tremble worked through him, hurt and betrayed anger flaring at the recollection. His hand curled into a fist, unconsciously, and it was not he but Claire who noticed. "'Remember, your lives are in my hands, brother,' he said. I myself would like to kill him with my bare hands."

He had a good reason to be angry, Claire knew. But she didn't like seeing his eyes darken like this, reflecting the aggressiveness he was no doubt feeling inside. She wished she could remove all negativity from his heart, wipe the slate clean, and keep him pure with affection and the loyalty of her love. They could rebuild the church! "That makes two of us," she told him.

But it was not entirely true and more for Charlie's benefit that she said this--she wished more so that the Scotsman would keep out of their lives but to save them, go away, than for any harm to befall him. Her tone was soft, distant; sad, even. And the fact that Charlie didn't notice (or else simply didn't comment) brought her close to tears.

Charlie smiled softly, comforted by her words, and stroked the twenty one year old's hair, not making eye contact. She was so young, and yet ancient, older than half of those they had crashed with or had already been on the island when the survivor's of the crash of flight 815. How could the terrible things that had happened to them have possibly occurred to such a youthful, kindhearted, innocent creature such as herself? He could scarcely believe that God (if there was such a thing, for as of late he had been having his doubts) had let her be hurt the way that she had been. Too bad the knowledge was seared inside him, proving itself by the hurting in his heart & soul for Claire's suffering.

"When I entered his tent he was staring at a picture bawling his eyes out, Des was," he told her. She'd asked for what had happened and so he was not going to leave out anything; though by no means quote what had happened betwen he and his ex friend word for word. "It was of him, and some girl."

"Penny," came Claire's whisper, the photograph reminding her of when she'd been confronted by it. Or, found it, more, when she'd been snooping Desmond's tent, waiting for him to return so that she could speak to him about something of urgent importance. That she was frightened Charlie had started using again, was on drugs. She laughed at herself now, at how far she had come since that moment and place in time. Pitiful, really.

Charlie nodded, glancing into her face with curious surprise. "Yes," he confirmed, "that's what Desmond called her. The photo is obviously incredibly sentimental to him--I ask myself why he would put the moves on you if he's so head over heels for this Penelope."

Claire was glad that her man hadn't asked her how she'd known the woman's name. Not that she had done anything wrong in her little visit to the Scotsman--it was just better that Charlie didn't know. She said nothing in reply, and Charlie mistook her silence as something else, working quickly to correct the situation for fear of upsetting his precious angel.

"Not that you're not completely lust-worthy, love," he told the woman in his embrace, giving her a tight squeeze and smooching her neck. "Any guy would be lucky to have you. _I'm _lucky to have you."

This had Claire beaming, depression and desperation forgotten, and she chucked him under the chin affectionately for the beautiful words with which he praised her. "Are you kidding? _I'm _the one overly fortunate to have _you_." If only things could prove to be fortunate for them entirely, things go smoothly for once, unlike the bad luck they'd been experiencing as of late. The thought crossed through both of their minds, though neither said it. She continued before she could dwell on Aaron's death a moment longer, for fear of dissolving into sobs.

"He loves her infinitely, though," she continued on after only a brief pause during which she dried tears that Charlie shed. They cared not about crying in front of one another, never had. The core of the family they had made may have been lost, but Charlie and Claire were still soulmates, still family. They would take care of one another always. "I can tell, and he definitely does."

She sighed, deeply, the need for substance abuse weighing heavily on her shoulders. "In that way, the fact that he's apart from the girl who's no doubt his other half, makes me feel pity for him."

This hardened the look in Charlie's eyes. "You shouldn't, though," he told her, and his voice was a mix between worry and disappointment. "He's not right in the head, you know that Claire?" He cupped her cheek, staring into her electric blue eyes with his own concerned pale-ish grey ones. It was a sad fact, because Charlie couldn't say that he regretted knowing Desmond even after all that had happened between them. But he still missed how his friend used to be. "A part of me still wants to trust him, too, but I know that's not a good choice." He sighed, now.

The blonde's heart went out to him. "I know," she agreed, wishing the same thing. But it was better this way, better that they knew they could no longer have faith in the Scotsman, that misplaced trust would only result in the two of them getting hurt again. "It's unfortunate that all this had to happen, but... he deserves whatever he gets for his treachery." This she said with stony certainty, her eyes cold all of a sudden. Charlie peppered her face with kisses.

Even though what Claire had lost was greater than what she had gained--whole new experiences in the department of drugs, Heroin, to be exact, and knowledge she never thought she would posess--there was still yet something she had to live for. Someone, and she was never going to let him go. Ever, ever. If Charlie was taken from her, too, she would go absolutely, screaming berserk. Probably kill everyone on the island, or something. She laughed at the thought, but the smile was wiped from her face and replaced by an expression of sick shock at the violence she felt captive in her heart. Maybe Desmond wasn't the only one going mad...

"Claire? Claire-Bear, what's a matter?" Came Charlie's quiet, soothing voice, crooning to her. Despite how comfortable he made her, the arms around her felt restrictive all of a sudden. She slipped out of his grasp, coming to her feet, feeling strange and weirdly off. A fine tremor worked its way through her petite frame.

"I don't--" but it was a good thing she closed her mouth just then. Charlie simply looked scared shitless. He reached for her, but she evaded, needing space and freedom in case she was going to blow chunks. She was crouching on her haunches now, wavering as if unable to maintain balance. Then, the opposite of her previous intentions, she got up in the boy's personal space, patting him profusely for any sign of the release she currently unbelievably needed.

"Claire?" Charlie rose too now, coming to stand beside Claire with an arm around her shoulders, forehead creased with worry. "Hey, are you all right? You don't seem so well. Look at me," as he lifted her chin to more clearly see her face. "You're green."

The faintest of chuckles, not much effort put into it, coming from the mirthlessly smiling mouth of none other than Claire. "That can't be good," but even in her distressed, irrationally anxious state she could tell that Charlie didn't find her very funny at the moment. He smoothed back her hair, which was damp with sweat, trying to keep his calm because something was seriously not right here. "You don't have any on you?" She was demanding, on her knees and hugging his legs with desperation, "you don't have more?" Heroin was what she needed right now, what would make the ill dizziness she was experiencing disappear.

Charlie was kneeling too, overall cradling the girl to his body in his love for her. The pupils of his blue gray eyes were fearful & wide, taking up the irises and making them look almost black. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he was repeating, over and over. "What are you talking about? What's going on? Are you going to be O.K.?"

Tears were streaming and Claire's stomach lurched, surroundings tilting and nausea spasming through her. _Withdrawal,_ she never got the chance to say, but Charlie seemed to have figured this out on his own. "Don't you?" She was sobbing heavily now, and snotting (as unattractive as it might be) as she continued to clutch at his pant legs. "Come on, Charles. There's more in your pockey, don't d-do this to me right now."

Something clicked, and Charlie reached into the front pocket of his jeans. He handed the baggie to her wordlessly, still supporting all her weight as she bent onto him and deciding to resume their position on the bed. "You're not going to puke, are you?"

Claire shook her head no, because that would not be a problem if she could just have her fix right this very second. She reached for her suitcase on the ground, Charlie steadying her by the waist, for a magazine and once it was laying flat in her lap, her still shaking body tucked much more comfortably against his. Emptying the last of the contents of their Ziplocked bag of stash onto it, and quickly grabbing a pen, she formed the dusty powder into a line with the sides of her hands and took apart the writing utensil. Then she brought her clear plastic tube to her nose like it was a straw and sucked for all that she was worth. Just like that it was gone.

After that, Claire calmed noticeably, leaning into Charlie's hard chest and pressing her lips to his cheek. "Thanks," she told him, her blue eyes meeting his stormy ones. Despite his concern for what had just happened he was still thinking about Desmond, she could see. "That was kind and completely selfless of you. That, whatever it was--the feeling of needing something, a substance no less, so badly ... well, it's never happened to me before. Thanks for taking care of me, Charlie," and that came from the heart.

He was just glad that his girlfriend was feeling better now. "I never wanted this for you, you know," he told her, tone serious and gentle at the same time. "But it's all gone now Claire, nothing left, and now our wounds can heal the way they should have in the first place. I'm so sorry that you're going to have to go through what just happened tommorow, too, babe. But we'll go see Jack because this time there will be no way to get out of facing withdrawal."

Her suffering would hurt him, but Charlie could see more than the brightside of the last of the Smack having been used. Things would get better now. If only she could believe that, believe him, now, too. "You mean that's it? All gone?" Claire was on the verge of sounding a little panicked again, sitting forward and head turned to face him.

That's right. "That's it."

* * *

**A/N: duh duh duh. sorry it took me so long to post this chapter, i'll try to do better! reviews would be so lovely. Thanks for reading.**

**xox Sacha**


	38. Chapter 38 Recollection

**A/N: Another chapter! Thanks so much for reading and reviewing, those that did :) hope you enjoy this one. Flashbacks or dreams are in **_**Italics**__. _**In this chapter it's a flashback! The flashback is Claire's version of the flashback in chapter eleven: I Know.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Lost or any of its characters.**

**

* * *

**

Time to Let Go:

Charlie had said that everything would be all right from now on? Therefore, that was that. It was difficult to believe, what with everything the two of them had gone through and what was no doubt to come in the future. But more than anything, Claire wanted to feel sure that he was absolutely one hundred percent correct. She trusted him, after all. If he thought himself right then what he had assured her of simply must be true.

Claire was floating in a sort of virtual state, a foggy unreality that felt as if it was permeating her very self and essence. Gone were the symptoms of withdrawal that she so feared and despised, and even though she would undoubtedly have to face them again tomorrow (possibly today, even, but right now she wasn't going to focus on that) for the time being she was just enjoying the moment. Sprawled on her side across the makeshift bed she and Charlie nightly shared, consisting of a few of those smallish blankets and pillows scavenged from the cockpit of the air plane so long ago as well as a ragged red sleeping bag they unzipped and curled up into together every night.

A pale arm, _her _arm, she realized, trailed in the sand by her head and Claire watched it in fascination, tracing patterns on the smooth skin. You'd think that with all her time in the sun here on the island she'd be tanned but strangely this wasn't the case-she didn't tan, she burned!

Charlie was God knew where. With his absence, however brief it may turn out to be, Claire felt vulnerable, like a piece of her heart was missing. And she worried about _his _delicate, unhealthy heart. When had she become so dependant on him? Flattered from the first moment they spoke; a cute, kind souled bumpkin of a young man with an obvious childish streak.

More than that, really—though he could behave like an adult when he wished to, more often than not Charlie jumped the gun and brooded like an angst-ridden teen. But how had she actually fallen in love with him, when, at what point? It didn't really matter, especially with the unimportance of time in a motherfucking snow globe. But Claire wanted to recall, if she could. The missing pieces of her fragmented memory still bothered her.

Sometimes they came back to her in the form of dreams, not always good ones. She thought hard through the pleasurable haze that had wrapped itself around her brain, squinting at her own hand on the arm which she then brought up to tuck a stray strand of sunny hair behind her ear.

Her hand was jumping at her! The Aussie drew back, startled, right hand clamped around the wrist of her left to control the action. Surroundings were suddenly blurred and Claire's heart began to palpitate in panic at the absurd, unwelcome motion, before she discovered that when it came to the hand spasms she really didn't care.

More calmly now Claire palmed her knees, noticing unconsciously, though the blond hairs could scarcely be seen, that her legs needed to be shaved. She could remember now the time and place she had first come to terms with the gut wrenching, knee knocking adoration of her love for Charlie. Really, it hadn't been so very long ago...

_Today Claire had journeyed out into the jungle, for the single purpose of being alone. Her swollen belly, the babe she was harbouring that had yet to make its way into the world, brought her lots of attention. The thing was, it wasn't necessarily the sort of attention that she liked. You'd think she was a flight risk or a weapon others constantly felt the need to keep an eye on, the worry and sense of duty she seemed to evoke! It wasn't like Claire planned on getting drunk or doing anything to harm the life force growing inside her—shouldn't she be able to be trusted with herself?_

_It did come to mind that it perhaps it wasn't that Claire wasn't trusted; instead, rather, her fellow castaways were most likely simply concerned for her and her unborn baby's well being. Any notions such as these that came to mind, however, were instantly pushed away, denied the right to linger. It was so much easier to be angry with everyone for stalking her like shadows and driving her mad with lack of access to quiet and peace than admitting that maybe being followed everywhere time and time again was in her best interest, for the best. _

_No, Claire needed some time away from Jack's medical questions and the rest of the camp's prying eyes. It wasn't like she was a leper or anything of the sort. Hadn't anyone ever seen an effing pregnant lady before? The stares and touches to her stomach were getting to be simply too much. Out here in the wilderness was the only place she could think of, anyway, that she would have been able to get away with the forlorn, half hysterical chuckles leaving her mouth and the current tears pouring down her face._

_She hadn't wanted a baby, had never asked God for the gift of a child in her womb. Claire didn't have regrets, per say—that she wished unwed pregnancy had never become a reality for her wasn't something she would say. Mostly because, strange as such a thing would be, she didn't want to hurt her baby's feelings, and because such a phrase would sound to her like blasphemy, more than anything else. But she just wasn't ready to be a mother! Giving birth was going to really, really hurt, and now that since she'd first realized she'd missed a period had been more than eight months ago, there was no turning back!_

_Lord, what a stupid, stupid girl she had been. Getting pregnant—what a thing to do! More laughter erupted, mixed in with sighs and sobs at recollection of her foolishness. Her ex-boyfriend's foolishness, too. What was she going to do, oh what on earth could she do? _

_The baby would know she had tried to get rid of it, had never wanted it in the first place. It would hate her and there wouldn't be a thing she'd be able to do about it. Besides try to care for it the best she could, and even that surely wouldn't be enough. Right now if it weren't for the unborn in her stomach, that had grown to be such a part of her over the last eight months, she would hate herself. When the baby finally came, she would love it, of course—she loved it now and she didn't even know if it was a boy or a girl! _

_But besides that, besides the love of a mother toward her offspring, the only good thing about giving birth would be that people would no longer stare._

"_Claire? Claire! What's wrong? Why are you acting so strange?" _

_Claire hadn't even known he was there, watching. Near crazed laughter that was more a hiccoughing of sobs continued, not as strong, but that were still in progress in a steady stream._

"_It's just occurred to me, Charlie, just really sunk in. I'm going to be a mother. A **mother**. I can barely take care of myself," she cried on, readily. "How on earth am I supposed to raise a child? And on an island no less!"_

_Charlie gathered her in, into the most intimate embrace they'd ever shared."It will all be okay, Claire. You'll be the best mother in the world."_

_Claire cringed, knowing inside her that this wouldn't, couldn't possibly be true. "N-no I won't," the words tumbled out of her, just barely distinguishable. "I was going to give him away, Charlie. What kind of a mother gives away her child?" _

"_That doesn't matter, Claire. All that matters is that you didn't give him up. You could have, but you didn't. You did the right thing!"_

"_That's not true!" And then not only wails and sobs were making their way out of her; Claire was throwing up, too. _

_Charlie rubbed her back, being the sweetheart that he was. More than anything at this moment, the Aussie was grateful for his presence here beside her, even if she couldn't rightfully believe any of the reassurances he was trying to make. _

"_Thanks," she wiped her mouth, looking away from him shamefully. Not only did she look like a crying, raving lunatic fool, she'd just blown chunks very close to where this kind chap had just had his hand._

"_Claire, I know you think the crash is the only reason you didn't give your child away, but I know that that's not true. I know you, Claire. I know that you wouldn't have gone through with it."_

_Claire wiped at her eyes now, which felt like when she looked into the ocean later to peer at her reflection, they would be puffy and red. _

"_I don't think you know me as well as you think you do."_

_This seemed to get a rise out of Charlie, because his blueish grey ones bore straight into Claire's sky tinted eyes. He grasped her chin firmly, and yet gently, in his hand, raising her face up to his. For a moment Claire was under the impression that he was going to press his lips to hers in a kiss, and shock and a bright, fiery longing rushed through her. She'd just thrown up though, and if that didn't gross Charlie out, he must not have a good concept of what was and wasn't gross. That, or he was simply a trooper. _

"_I know more about you than I know about myself, Claire. I know that when you're excited or nervous you bite your lip; I know that you believe in astrology, but you don't live your life from it; I know that you like to tell stories to yourself when you're on one of your walks and you think that no one can hear you. I know that you're a good person, and that you'll be a great mother. Do you want to know how I know so much about you, Claire?"_

_Claire was dazed, feeling very nearly mute and speechless. "Tell me," she said, aware despite the surprise of all this new information, of Charlie's strong but oddly soothing grip on her face._

_Charlie hesitated, but it didn't last long. "Because I care about you. A lot of people care about you. And I don't know what I'd do if you or the baby were ever hurt, so please don't come out into the jungle alone again." _

_With these last words, Charlie rose to his feet, and it was only then that Claire truly realized how crumpled she lay, on the ground in a heap, and that instead of getting her to have this conversation standing Charlie had thought nothing of joining her to hold her close in her position. He helped her to her feet, as well. That was when Claire did it. She hadn't thought ahead, hadn't planned the action which she then proceeded to enact, just went with impulse. Planted her mouth on the rough stubble of his cheek, heartened when he smiled widely, like it was the best gift he'd even been given._

_It was the least she could do—and that wasn't the only reason Claire had done it, either. She had wanted to. Entirely, earnestly, wanted to. The things he'd told her, his arms around her in that embrace, had meant the world to her, and she had felt the need to pay him back somehow. Claire would spend the rest of her life paying him back, if that was, and she thought it just might be, all right with him._

_They both blushed and continued forward, looking away from each other shyly and then back again. Neither said a word because they didn't have to. Their feelings were out, hovering around them for each to see, in the air. **I think I just might be in love, **Claire thought to herself. It was the first time she had ever felt like this, and she never wanted the feeling to depart._

_She reached for his hand, grasping it in hers, interlocking his fingers between hers as they walked. Into the future, their future, whatever would come. Come what may. With Charlie by her side, Claire was stronger than she had ever been in her whole life._

So that was how it'd been. Claire hadn't really forgotten—how could she forget such an important part of the destiny she and Charlie shared, had unrolled almost effortlessly together? They had had their setbacks, this was true, when she had found out that he was using Heroin. But with Aaron unfortunately gone, and the drug she'd once hated almost out, too, these things were no longer issues. Claire had a good memory, anyway, most of the time.

Heroin, however, had the power to erase practically all thoughts that didn't revolve around its bittersweet self from the mind. It definitely hurt, to say the least, to think back on times during which Aaron had been, or rather almost been, alive. Gladness came from recalling the moment she and Charlie had first truly connected, for sure! But even so, cringe-worthy sadness and an unwelcome but not unfamiliar grief took over, as well.

Claire resisted the allure of giving in to tears with a disoriented blink, swallowing hard when her breath hitched in her throat. Even with Charlie by her side, how ever was she going to be able to survive the this ever present, looming threat of depression? She'd come this far, it was true; but that had been with Heroin's aid, and without it things would turn out for the worst, she was sure.

No good could come from being separated from that which she had grown to depend on, no good! The very prospect scared Claire to the wits. If she had any left, that was. It was a known fact, one she'd studied in junior high, even, that the Junk she and Charlie liked to use killed brain cells. Too bad a repercussion even as serious as that made quitting, had there been more in amount, worth being a possibility.

She sighed. Claire was just going to have to get over it. It wasn't what she wanted to do, that was for sure. But it was inevitable. They had no more.

Even as the pain and withdrawal that was most assuredly coming had the power of making Claire wince, a little part inside her was glad, all the same. How had she been able to go from being happy and a loving mother to a sad, probably haggard looking drug addict so quickly? Her Mum would cry if she knew. If she was even alive. The Aussie felt a little prick at the back of her eyes, saddened by the concept of her little world of people she loved dying.

Life sucked. The only good thing Claire had in her life right now was Charlie—he was her everything, a blessing to her very being that was never, ever going to let go. She wasn't sure what she would have done over the last few weeks if he hadn't been with her, loving her, the whole time. She wasn't sure if she even would have made it. Claire glanced down at her arm again, the wrist in particular, considering cutting it.

Remembering when, during her goth filled teen years, that was something she used to do. It made the feelings related to your problems feel better, yes, but when the knife didn't make your problems go away you continued, a cycle forming, the pressure you put on the handle becoming more and more severe. Nah, that wasn't something she wanted to start up again. Claire had enough bad habits; or more like, one very horrible one. She would do her best to work through this one that she currently had and then try to stay away from anything that might do anything but improve the mending of her spirit.

_I wish Charlie was here, _Claire realized. He hadn't been going that long. Maybe fifteen, twenty minutes. But yet during even such scarce amount of time, the category of Claire's moods had changed from one to the other, the happiness she felt at being stoned doing more than just beginning to flicker.

When Charlie was nearby, even when things were devastating as they had been so often lately, her melancholy improved. Even if just slightly, the love they knew that each felt for the other filled her with hope, and him too, she was sure. Hope that tomorrow might not be as bad as the day before had been. Hope that they would get through all of this together. If Charlie had been laying beside her on their makeshift bedding just now, the thought of cutting would never have flashed through her head, she never would ever consider killing herself.

_I love him so much_, Claire thought, and her face crumpled and she began to cry. It was a physical pain, being away from him. As well as spiritual, psychological, emotional. She wanted him near so that he could wrap his arms around her and sing songs to her beneath his breath, make love to her in the oh so pleasurable, endearing way he had just this afternoon. If she had Charlie, to keep, Claire didn't need anything else; not Aaron (however much she tried to tell herself this wasn't so, no matter how much she may miss him), not civilization, not Heroin.

Or at least, she didn't think so.

* * *

**A/N: There! So sorry for the long wait, I'm in France right now and I have no internet. This gives me a good amount of time to write, though! Please please review to me, my darlings :) This fanfiction is going to end soon. I guess, say, five more chapter? Six? Less? I don't know, but it will be under ten. Tell me if you have an especially bright idea that would be a fantastic ending, though I already have a pretty good one. But I'm open to inspiration ! Thankks, hope you enjoyed!**

**xox Sacha**


	39. Chapter 39 Drowning

**A/N: Nothing much to say, besides thanks to those that are still reading and reviewing ! Means a lot to me. Now, on with the story! _Italics _are thoughts, flashbacks, or dreams. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Lost or any of its characters, as much as I wish I did =(**

**

* * *

**

Time to Let Go:

It hadn't been a good idea, to be sure, lying to Claire. Charlie realized how stupid it had been to do just that. He definitely didn't feel good about having betrayed her trust—to say the least!-but that would be nothing compared to how _she _would feel if she ever found out. Found out that there still remained some Heroin in her lying boyfriend's possession.

The way she'd feel would be much worse than the way he did right now, he imagined.

Charlie sighed, staring out at the ocean before him. He hadn't even told her where he was going before he'd left a good half hour ago! Only that he would be right back. This turned out to be another lie, much as this hadn't been the Englishman's intention. Lately it felt like life was full of them. He'd left the tent to sit on the beach for some fresh air and to think about the bad thing he'd done, telling her that what she had just snorted was it, that no more Junk was left.

Killing himself over it.

He'd been completely dishonest, and Charlie was disappointed in himself. He'd thought he was past that—he could tell Claire anything! Since they'd begun using _together _a bond had been created, even stronger than the one that lingered from their having gone through that Ethan ordeal together, and he'd used this factor to his advantage to fool her. All because he was unworthy of Claire, a bad person; a selfish, deceitful man. Because the pull of his drug calling him was too strong, because he was just a weakling.

_Maybe it's a good thing Aaron's not around to have a father figure like me anymore_, he thought bitterly, though he didn't really mean it. To have Aaron back in his and Claire's lives again would be a blessing.

_All I would have done would be to raise him wrong._

God, what was he thinking? That wasn't right! Charlie felt a prick at the back of his eyes, as if he were close to tears. How was it even possible to go from happy and enjoying Claire's company one moment to liar to wanting to bawl your eyes out the next? It'd been wise to leave the tent when he had, really; the guilt he was currently feeling would surely be almost unbearable around Claire.

Not that, high as she was, she probably even remembered he was gone.

He fingered the Advil bottle in his hoodie's pocket. It was empty except for last remnants of the drug he and Claire abused, the only thing inside. He'd cleverly transferred what was enough for one last big hit or two regular ones over a week ago, back when the two of them had had much more in abundance than they did now. Back when lacking Heroin hadn't yet been a problem.

Claire wasn't even aware that those last hits existed. That there proved that the process had been put into play much too slyly, in Charlie's opinion. He felt like a rat.

The temptation was just too overwhelming. Oh, how he wanted to unscrew the top of the child safety locked Advil bottle and tap the last of the Heroin into his palm to snort into his system! The fact that afterwards there would no longer be anything left for him to use wasn't thinkable right now. Withdrawal would happen soon, was already beginning, but even so Charlie wasn't thinking that far ahead. However guilt-ridden it may make him, he just couldn't focus on anything other than that craving, that _need_, for the Junk in his pocket.

"Dude, you okay?" Charlie and Hurley didn't talk so much anymore, so it was a surprise to hear his voice. "You don't look so good. All gross and sweaty."

The attempt at humour was brittle, but Charlie gave a low chuckle anyway. "I try," he joked faintly, cracking a weak smile. The last time they'd spoken they'd gotten into a fight, he recalled as he glanced up at his big friend. It was reassuring that it seemed they weren't arguing any longer. "If I'm being serious, though, I've been better."

"I can believe that." Hurley heaved himself to the ground next to the stranded rock star, offering him the other half of a mango he was eating. "But you've been worse, too though, right? So things can't be too bad."

Charlie nodded as acknowledgement of the honesty of this statement, and also as a thanks, taking his party of the fruit and biting into it. "That's true. Just doing some soul searching, really," he said. Even as he had regained a lot of the weight lost after the tragedy of Aaron's death and even earned a little muscle, too, his ribs must still obviously be showing. Hurley seemed to have noticed.

In addition to just the kindness of the guy's heart, that explained the mango bonding.

"Soul searching what?" Hurley asked.

Charlie wasn't sure what to say in response to him. Finally, after a pause, he decided on going with being as close to the truth as he could. "Regrets," he told him. "Bad things I've done."

He looked at Hurley, feeling a sadness spread through him as he spoke his next words, knowing that they were true. "I'm not a good person, Hurley. I was, once, you know? But not anymore."

The moroseness must have shown on his face, because Hurley put a comforting arm around his shoulders. "Why do you say that, dude? C'mon Charlie; I mean, we've all done things in life we wish we could take back. But we can't, we just have to go with the flow. No use getting so down about it."

Charlie shrugged, drawing reassurance from his friend's words, even though they didn't really change anything. Hurley, comic relief as he had always been, actually had a great wisdom to him. One that was more than often overlooked. Charlie had actually never realized before now. "You're probably right," he allowed, "but at the same time I don't think it's as simple as that; wish it was."

Hurley nodded, knowingly. Charlie wondered what he thought he knew. "I see," was all he said, before a pause. "Well man, you know you can talk to me about anything. I got enough bad karma points as it is, being cursed and all, so you know...I don't judge."

Charlie said nothing, because he didn't think Hurley was yet done, who held his eye contact for the moment. Being and coming across as entirely serious. "But I'm not going to rush you or anything. You'll know when the time is right. When you're ready to try and figure some stuff out, or at least get it off your chest, I'll be here, all right?"

Now it was Charlie's turn to nod his head. "All right, Hurley," this time the smile he flashed felt more real. Hurley got up to walk away.

"And hey, thanks man," Charlie twisted his position in the sand to look his pal in the face before he disappeared. He winked, remembering good times between them and feeling a bit more like his old self. "You know what I mean. Not just for the mango."

Hurley sent him a heartfelt smile as he turned to go. "No problem, bro."

No apologies had been said, no explanations given. Charlie knew the two of them were a long way from returning to the way they had used to be. But, even if he hadn't said it in words, Hurley had let him know he was forgiven. His best friend was trying to understand him, going to give him without resentment all the grieving and messed-up-Charlie time he'd need. And the blond felt sure that soon, once this all too recent past was more behind Claire and him, Hurley would return to being by his side.

Charlie wiped some perspiration from his brow, slightly more heartened but still brooding and deep in thought. Hurley may still accept him, but then again the big guy didn't know what he'd done. Charlie had done a lot.

Nausea spiked through him, suddenly and without warning besides the weird gurgling sounds his stomach had begun to make. When was the last time he had used, again? A few hours ago? Yesterday? He couldn't remember.

Neither could he recall what was stopping him from whipping out his small secret stash of Heroin and putting end (or pause, more like) to his suffering right now. It was difficult to think through the pain in his body. It felt strange that his withdrawal symptoms were coming on so quick. So what was stopping him? Because he didn't want Claire to find out he still had some with him, _couldn't _let her find out?

To hell with that! He was halfway to prying open the plastic pill bottle with trembling fingers before he regained any self control. And that was mostly only because an all too well loved, familiar, lilting voice made itself heard approaching and good sense fortunately managed to return.

"Chaaaarlieeee," Claire sang. She stumbled through the white sand barefoot, making her way closer to him until she was practically sitting in his lap. She laughed, rolling off of him and instead leaning against his side, and he got a glimpse of the raised scars on her feet. Scars from having run all day and most of the night on the day of her son's death, gleaming in the high afternoon sun from their position propped up close to him, the faded memories of wound marks adorning the otherwise flawless bottoms. Seeing them made him more attentive to the pain in his stomach than he already had been.

"Claire-Bear," he breathed, tucking a strand of silky blond hair behind her ear, even though he was completely shaking. "Hey."

"Where were you?" Claire's features were set in a pout despite her jolly seeming arrival, but he could perceive real hurt as well as worry in her wide, glazed eyes. "You said you were going to be right back. That was an hour ago." She stared.

Charlie smiled apologetically. Had it really been that long? Time flied, it appeared, when your life revolved around (and the lack of, lately) Heroin. "Sorry, babe, really didn't mean to let you down. Just needed some fresh air, is all. I'm not feeling too great."

Claire frowned, suddenly up standing. "Oh no!" She cried. Any other time she would be feeling his forehead for a fever, hurrying to get Jack. At the moment, however, she was out of it, and so her logic was different. "Come for a dip in the water, then," she suggested, big blue eyes twinkling mirthfully, "it'll do you some good."

Charlie just raised an eyebrow. "Nah, I dunno, Claire," he rejected. "I'm not really in the mood. I just kind of want to relax, okay? Why don't you lie down here in the sun with me?" Claire, however, just began to tug on his hand.

"Come on," she pleaded, wishing that he would. "You ditched me, remember? You could at least make it up to me," and there was definite additional meaning to her words from her tone. "Please come for a swim?"

Charlie wasn't up for it, though. "No Claire," he said it more firmly this time while still remaining gentle with her. Claire had been treated badly a lot through out her life, he knew. He wasn't going to snap at her or start what would be sure to be a fight. Claire was kind of sensitive to tone of voice and way in which people spoke to her, he had long since discovered.

So sometimes, especially when she was stoned, you had to get your point across while still humouring her. "I'm sorry, baby," he blew her a kiss. His head was beginning to hurt with the need for a fix. "You go in," he advised, smiling enthusiastically as if in encouragement. "See how fun swimming by yourself can be—and I'll make it up to you later."

Claire just looked like she wanted to bite his head off, though. "Fine, Charlie," though, with a sigh, was all she said. She looked beyond annoyed, and Charlie guessed she was feeling neglected, but he was much too dizzy to get up and join her. "I'll go by my fucking self, then." Then she was stomping into the water huffily until she was up to her neck.

"Don't go too deep!" Charlie felt the need to add this in. Really! Claire was acting like a little kid. Despite this fact and her unreasonableness, though, his aim still hadn't been to upset her, and so he felt bad.

"Whatever." Claire did a couple whirls. The tide swept in and then out in a swift rhythm, sweeping her closer to shore and away from it alike. "You're missing out, Charlie," she drawled, floating on her back with her face turned up to the sky, the sun. Her hair spread out around her head prettily, like a blond halo.

Charlie didn't really think he was. Any other time he would have been happy to join his Claire for a dip, but today was not one such an occasion. He shielded his eyes from the glare that reflected off the waves, lying back in the sand heavily. It was easy for Claire to have a good time, stoned as she was. Charlie found himself jealous, though he couldn't in good conscience blame her for being buzzed, even if he himself wasn't.

It was his fault she'd been turned to using Smack in the first place.

"Sorry," Charlie offered, feebly, again. Claire just rolled her eyes. Charlie wished she'd have a little more compassion for the withdrawal pains he was currently facing, but pushed the thoughts aside. It was better he didn't feed such pessimism.

Claire ducked her head under the water, staying there for what felt like a long time though it was really only half a minute. Making Charlie's heart beat frantically with worry. When she resurfaced she laughed a little at the look on Charlie's face, making him frown. He didn't appreciate it. He was in a bad enough mood as it was.

"Don't do that!" He exclaimed, getting angry. "Jesus Christ, woman."

Claire glared back. "I'm entitled to do what I wish," she retorted. "Anyhow, do what?" Then a little smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. "_This_?" And then diving under once more.

Charlie sat up quickly, intensely alert. It made him nervous when she did that. The ocean was unpredictable and unforgiving. He would know. Charlie had been there when that Joanna woman had died going for a swim the first week after they'd crashed, had been unable to do anything about it.

He definitely didn't want Claire to suffer that same fate.

And she wasn't popping up again. Oh God, was she okay? Unconscious? Still just pulling his leg? Charlie didn't know, but he wasn't taking any chances.

He was in love with her—and love makes people do crazy things. So even though he wasn't the strongest swimmer, he scrambled to his feet and rushed at the water, leaping in. Taking a deep breath of air before plunging deeper in his search of that foolish, darling Claire. He wasn't going to lose her, too! Had to save her, no matter what the cost.

Eyes open and stinging beneath the waves, he caught sight of her, just as she was making her way upward. Grinning and looking like she was having a good laugh at his expense, in fact. Charlie wasn't sure he had ever felt more cross.

"Claire," he yelled, once she had surfaced and was treading water next to him. A wave swept over them, pushing them farther out and filling their mouths with salt. "What the hell? Come on, we're going back on land right now."

"Calm down," Claire rolled her eyes, unconcerned. When Charlie grabbed her arm and started attempting to tow her toward the beach, though, her temper sharpened. "Ow, that hurts! Relax, Charlie." She pouted again, like she had earlier. "I was only fooling."

Charlie however, wasn't. "I know you were," he growled, kicking to speed up the process. "But you nearly gave me a heart attack! I thought you had died!" Claire began kicking, too. "After what happened to Aaron, is that really something to joke about?"

Claire flinched, as if she'd been slapped. Her tone, though, sounded like she was ashamed of herself. "No," she acknowledged. Then looking around them, her big eyes going even more wide. "Charlie,-"

But he cut her off. "I don't want to hear it. No excuses, all right?" He sighed, gasping against the rapidly approaching waves of water that were slamming into them repeatedly, trying to choke them. "I'm not mad anymore. Let's just swim."

Claire couldn't agree more. "We'd better," she spluttered, growing nervous and clinging to him. She looked scared. Charlie wasn't sure why this was, but he didn't want her to be. When she turned him, which was difficult with her arms and legs getting tired from the struggle, he quickly found out, however. "We're a long way from sh-shore, Charlie."

A good four or five meters.

"Shit!" It sounded like he was gargling. Frantic, suddenly, Charlie began kicking and thrashing. Now he was holding onto Claire just as tightly as she had been, before.

"C'mon, Charlie, swim!" Claire enthused, ignoring Charlie's cry of "_I bloody only effing learned the doggy paddle!"_, appearing panicked but still trying to keep her cool. They were in danger, even as unreal as it seemed. If they drifted any further away from the beach, they were toast.

"Don't hold onto me like that! You're weighing me down-" her sentence remained uncompleted when an oncoming wave hit and sent her sprawling sideways, away from Charlie and his grasp.

"Claire!" The words were barely distinguishable, not over the screeching of gulls overhead and the roaring of the ocean in their ears. She was so far away...but he couldn't just leave her! That was, were he even able to get himself to shore, anyway. Charlie threw himself toward her through the water, just managing to clutch her hand, Fear settling deeply in his heart.

They locked eyes, then both making themselves turn to try to scan the beach for any sign of saviours. More waves swept over their heads, and suddenly Charlie's limbs, which had already been in pain, felt very heavy. "Swim!" Claire ordered again, trying to urge him onward. It must have just been that her face was wet from the ordeal they were currently facing, but it also looked like she was in tears. "You can't give up, Charlie!

Through the shock of the great danger they were up against, her high seemed to have worn off. That was definitely for the better. If Claire was still as dazed as she'd been not fifteen minutes ago she wouldn't have even realized that they were in trouble. "I won't..." Charlie muttered, trying his best to stay afloat, the water that kept spilling over his lips muffling his words. "I'm not..."

But despite his words he felt very tired, was beginning to sink downwards. Breathing was a challenge he just didn't feel he had the strength for. The force was starting to leave his fight.

"Charlie," Claire sobbed. She was still holding onto him, being pulled downward steadily by his lack of effort, however much she tried to accomplish the opposite. "No, please," she begged. "I don't want you to die." A mantra, over and over she repeated it.

"I don't-" whoosh, another wave, almost ripping them apart, "want you to die."

For some reason, seeing Claire's face looking down in agony at him, Charlie began thinking of God. Him and the church he had been planning to complete with Eko. Now he would never be absolved of his sins. The church (even as it had been the place he had rediscovered the virgin Mary statues filled with Heroin) would never be finished. And Claire's life was going to be lost, too.

That was the worst thing of all. Knowing that he wouldn't be able to save her. But he was just so tired. He had no strength left. His lungs were burning with the inability to rise high enough from the water to get any air.

They would never get off this island, now. Not that Claire wanted that—Charlie knew that even if given the option to go, she'd stay here with Aaron. And of course Charlie would stay with her. Either way, alive or dead, they would be together, this was proving itself right now. They were going to drown, just like Desmond had anticipated.

At least he wouldn't have to worry about going through withdrawal!

With that final thought, Charlie passed out.

* * *

**A/N: There! Hope you guys enjoyed that. Hope also that it didn't come across as too rushed at the end =) If anyone is wondering why Charlie came across so weak, the reason he had no endurance is because his strength was drained from not having had a fix in a while. **


	40. Chapter 40 Intentions

**A/N: And here we go again. We're almost done, folks! But not quite. I've got one more shocker in mind (and a few more chapters). Well, you might expect it... But I'm sure you'll let me know (: Thanks to the person that actually reviewed, ahah 3**

**Disclaimer: If you haven't gotten it by now, you never will. I don't own Lost or any of its characters!**

**

* * *

**

Time to Let Go:

Desmond had not been doing much. His pride was still sore from the encounter with Charlie. He felt badly about what he'd done, kissing Claire, but he'd liked it much too much for guilt to fill him _completely. _His ego wasn't so hurt, however, that when he heard cries from the beach outside his tent of "Help! It's Charlie and Claire-they've gone under!" he ignored them.

Of course he didn't. Desmond didn't have a lot of friends on the island; he was weird, anti-social, as well as a drunk, and people generally kept away from him. Especially since they weren't aware that he had saved their lives and risked his own during the implosion of the hatch by turning that Fail Safe key. If they'd known, he had a feeling he would be much better admired instead of ignored and avoided. But anyway, up until lately, Charlie had never treated him badly, and he had always held a soft spot for Claire.

So if their lives were in danger, of course Desmond was going to do his best to save them.

"What's happenin'?" He demanded, running out to meet the crowd of people gathered by the water on the beach, pointing at the water. All that could be heard was a chorus of mumbled concerns. People were talking over each other, their words overlapping, making it almost impossible to hear what had happened. But from the phrase uttered that the Scotsman had heard and the still continued pointing, he guessed that Charlie and Claire were in the process of drowning.

That was, if they hadn't drowned already.

"Ah, shit!" His shirt came off, without a moment to lose. It had been his job to make sure that the couple stayed safe, look after them. He'd had the knowledge that they would be stranded in the water from one of _his _many visions. That this was on its way to being realized, therefore, was his fault.

He had known and had failed that duty. Failed them. Even if he had every reason to be angry with Charlie right now. Even though he hadn't known _when_.

Shit shit shit shit!

"Desmond, what are you doing?" Kate glanced over as he continued to disrobe, forehead crinkled with concern about the current situation but not doing anything about it. Simply being worried wasn't going to keep Charlie and Claire from winding up dead.

"Has anyone gone in to get them yet?" Off came his belt, shirt, and then his pants, so that he was standing in just his boxer shorts.

When Kate didn't answer immediately, Desmond quickly grew frustrated. "I said has anyone gone in to save them!"

She looked at him. "Yeah, Jack has. He's about halfway there. I suggest you go in too, though, because he won't be able to bring them both back by himself." By her tone, she was really worried. Probably almost as worried as he himself was.

Desmond frowned. "Right. Okay, I'm on it."

Then, without another word, before anyone could stop him—not that they would have—he waded a few feet into the ocean and dived in.

* * *

**Claire's point of view...**

The dizzying motion of the ocean rocked Claire to and fro, and waves were crashing over her head every now and again. She was still holding onto Charlie, refused to let go, by the armpits. A difficult job when you needed your strength to continue treading water and remain afloat. This was Charlie, though. He was her responsibility; she would rather die than have not done all she possibly could to save him, than abandon him.

This was in fact what probably would happen.

"Charlie," she whimpered, trying to lift him above the water so he could get a breath of air. This process only caused her to be lowered, so that a mouthful of the ocean water passed her lips, but that was okay. That was okay; as long as Charlie was able to breathe. Which, she soon found out, he wasn't, not really. "Oh God," she moaned, slippery hands feeling for a pulse, which was there but not as strongly as it should be, she assumed.

Not Charlie. Anyone but Charlie.

They were going to die. Of that much, Claire was certain. It was her fault, too. "I love you," she told him, though unconscious as he was she doubted he heard. She continued to try weakly to swim closer to shore and haul him along with her, but to no use.

It felt like they were only drifting further away from it rather than nearer, as was the intention. That wasn't so unusual, considering the tide. For every bit closer they came, Claire still clutching Charlie tightly, as tightly as her near numb fingers allowed anyway, they were pushed back a good deal farther. Claire felt despair rise up in her chest. There was nothing she could do.

"I'm sorry, Charlie," she whispered, face crumpling, tears beginning to stream. She was crying so hard now that along with the water in her eyes she could barely see. Everything was liquid, nothing sturdy around. Nothing to keep them from drowning, to place Charlie on. Oh, her arms were so tired!

Things no longer felt unreal. Her high had disappeared under the shock of being carried out to sea so far away from shore. Quite the opposite, actually; their circumstances were much _too _real.

Too real that she was gradually but surely sinking below the surface of the water, too real that she was quickly losing her ability to get any air. It was too real that Charlie was going to die because of her, and she repented that.

At least now they'd be with her darling son.

Claire's eyes kept trying to fall shut, even as she continued to force them to stay open. It was _hard_ not to give up. But she held on to Charlie by the hood of his hoodie all the same. If he went down, she was going down too. No matter what, they had to be together.

It was as this thought crossed her mind that Claire felt a strong grip fasten itself around her waist.

"Charlie?" She choked out, forcing her eyes open. Supported by an arm, it was easier to take breaths now. Had he suddenly gained his strength back, woken up, was trying to save her? "S-save your strength," she shakily advised.

"Charlie's being taken care of," a gruff voice let her know, the roiling Scottish accent indicating who its owner was.

"Where?" Claire struggled in Desmond's grasp, exhausted as she may be, to peer over his shoulder. She didn't remember letting Charlie go. When she looked down to where he'd previously been, however, all she saw was his hoodie, which she was still gripping, without him inside it. "Charlie!" She hollered, coughing water, which only made her more determined to increase the volume of her screams.

"Charlie!" He had to be able to hear her over the loudness all around them, know that she was okay. If he registered that his name was being called he would call back to her, she knew he would, and Claire would know in turn that he was, or at least soon would be, okay.

If Desmond was lying to her...so help him God! She didn't expect him to be, and as she spotted Jack towing a gasping, pale looking (but fortunately very alive) Charlie along a few meters in front of them, she was relieved. But who knew when it came to the Scotsman? Charlie was the most very precious thing in her world, and she didn't trust Desmond.

Not one bit.

"Calm down," he practically barked. "Ye came close to dying yerself. Ye must have passed out for a few seconds while Jack grabbed Charlie, is why ye don't remember."

Sighing, Claire acknowledged to herself that there wasn't a very big reason not to believe him. He was her rescuer, after all. She should be a little more grateful than she was acting now, be thanking him instead of chewing him out. Although, Desmond could be being a little nicer than he was coming across at the moment...

And he was still the bastard that could have prevented Aaron's death but didn't and had kissed her against her will.

"Sorry," she muttered, not truthfully _that_ sorry but more for politeness' sake. "So he's going to be okay, then? And how would you know? I know you had a vision of this happening—what if he has brain damage?" As her own words registered, she twisted in his hold again, enticing a "stop moving," from Desmond as she tried to catch another glimpse of Charlie and Jack again, eyes wide.

"_He doesn't know how to swim!_"

"That would be the reason Jack is there."

"How can you be sarcastic at a time like this?" She was nearly hysterical now, glaring up at him. "I thought you were going to prevent this from even happening! Don't you care at all?"

"I'm in the water, aren't I?" He growled, rolling his eyes. Claire wondered, her distress amplifying it to much more than just a vague inclination of curiosity, if he realized that her question had been one that demanded a yes or no response.

"I repeat," she said, as Desmond continued to make his unhurried way to shore. "Do you even care at all about what happened? Because with your lack of apology or distress, I'm really doubting it right now. What, did you just jump in and volunteer to get me to spend some quality time with you, or what?"

Desmond didn't answer at first. Just kept swimming in the direction of the beach. It was a while before he responded, during which Claire silently fumed, and when he did it was only to say, "Of course I care."

Claire scoffed, though deep inside she was feeling a little guilty for the bratty way she was treating him. Any of those feelings were quickly pushed aside, however, in the face of her anger that he hadn't prevented what had happened. "That's all you have to say, then," she said. It was more of a statement than a question. "I thought you saw this happen. I thought you were on top of things."

Now it was Desmond's turn to scowl. "How was I supposed to know you were going to go swimming, even though you knew what might happen if you did?"

This trumped Claire, a little. "I-" but she was interrupted.

"Maybe if ye weren't so _stoned _all the time," he continued brashly. "Ye would have a little more logic, Claire."

Claire scowled—partly because she so absolutely _enraged _at Desmond and partly to keep from starting to cry. What he was saying was true, and she knew it. What had happened was her fault. Her negligent stupidity had almost caused Charlie to die! What a horrid girlfriend she was.

She didn't mean to let him know that he was right, for if Claire could imagine just how smug Desmond would be, as a result. Suddenly, however, the words just came tumbling out. "You're right," she said, and her voice was a choked and barely comprehensible due to trying to keep the sobs at bay. "I killed Aaron, and I almost caused Charlie to die. I'm the one who deserves to be dead!"

Desmond stared at her strangely. "The fuck ye talking abou', Claire?"

Claire realized what she had said, and shook her head, shutting her mouth. "You're right," she told him, beginning to tremble. Desmond's arms tightened around them, but as they were a few feet away from dry land, she pushed him away. "Just that you're right."

Desmond gave her a long look, which was only broken by the crowd that surged around Claire as she set foot on sand once more. But even after that, she felt his gaze on her.

Kate was crying as she enveloped the friend she'd once played midwife to in her arms.

"I'm okay," Claire assured her, stopping to squeeze her briefly before continuing forward. "Where's Charlie?" She asked. People were crowded around, looking relieved that they no longer need be distraught. Somebody squeezed her hand comfortingly, but the Aussie didn't look to see who.

Claire's legs were like rubber as she made her way to the tent she and Charlie shared, that he and Jack were already waiting, she heard. It had been a close call. If it wasn't for said doctor and Desmond, she and Charlie would most likely no longer be alive. Claire made the decision to go to him later and give him a thank you for having saved her. She was grateful, even if her dislike of him was greater than it.

Right now, though, she had to go check on Charlie and make sure the case really was so; that he was still alive since the last time she'd caught his eye, and that he also was all right.

"Charlie?" She entered the tent without hesitation. It was hers, after all. Charlie was laying sprawled across the air-plane seats they sometimes used as a make shift sort of couch, bundled up in the sleeping bag they shared. It was all wet from having a still soaking him wrapped in it, but no matter.

Claire was just glad that he was conscious, and seemingly alert.

"Claire." Charlie sighed, reaching out shaking hand to hold hers, sounding put at ease by her appearance. His eyes were wide and face drawn, but he was alive. That was all that mattered.

"I never want to go swimming again," Claire laughed weakly, tears of happiness filling her eyes. She hated crying. She had been doing so for the last, what, month? Four and a half weeks?

At least these tears weren't the cold, bitter ones of despair she and Charlie had come to know so well. That was something.

Charlie laughed too, a coughing sound, as slightly did Jack. Before now, Claire had almost forgotten he was there.

"I'm so glad you guys are okay," and Claire could tell he really meant it. "I was so..." Jack could barely finish his sentence, his emotions were overwhelming him so. "So, so worried." He paused, breathing deeply, and Claire wondered if _he _was going to cry, too.

Another pause as Jack tried to gather himself. During this time Charlie and Claire exchanged glances and smiled at each other lovingly, brightly.

"I'm just glad you guys are okay."

Was it just her imagination, or had Claire seen the man's chin tremble a tiny bit? The feeling in Jack's words touched her heart. She took his hand with the one that wasn't clasped in Charlie's and squeezed, much the way hers had been on her way over.

"I'm glad too," she told him, eyes still swimming. She grinned with amazed gratefulness, though, anyway. "I don't know what we would do without you Jack, I really don't. Thank you for saving Charlie's life. It means more to me than words can say- so I'll just say it again-thank you."

Charlie nodded, forcing himself into a sitting position with a wince. "Yeah, thanks Jack," he smiled faintly, also. "You risked your life. You didn't have to do that."

Jack smiled, still looking choked up, but nodding ecstatically, too. "What are you talking about? Of course I had to. Of course I did! You guys..." Another one of those pauses. "Are my best friends. I don't know what I would do without _you. _I...I love you so much."

Claire let Charlie's hand go for the moment to give Jack a hug. "We love you too, Jack. You're our hero. That will never change."

Jack wiped away a tear, with a little embarrassed chuckle. Then became serious and kind of down trodden once more. "I know how hard things have been for you guys lately, and I just want you to know again how sorry I am. I wish things were different. But I'm so glad that we didn't lose you, too."

Charlie felt a familiar pang at the mention of Aaron, but leaned forward achingly to grasp Jack's forearm, affectionately firm. "We don't blame you, Jack. Thank you for everything." Claire just smiled a sad smile and hugged him again, pushing thoughts of the deceased child to the back of her mind. Otherwise she'd start spouting that she had been the reason for the little guy's death again, and that would really suck.

Today, not surprisingly considering the events, had been a set back, but lately living with the guilt had oddly become less difficult.

"Here," Jack handed them a bottle of prescription pills. "I know we've gone over this before, but for your withdrawal. I'm not judging. I just don't want you guys to suffer more than you have to, and already have."

Then, before he could get any more emotional, he left. Claire looked down at the bottle in her hand, then back up at Charlie. "This is going to blow," she said, climbing to lie down next to him, despite the limited space. Charlie nodded in agreement and kissed her on the cheek.

No doubt, it was.

* * *

**A/N: There ! Hope you liked. Update soon please. That wasn't the same bottle as Charlie had in the last chapter, either, just so you know (; Review please please please ! I'll update soon, promise.  
**

**xox Sacha**


	41. Chapter 41 Romeo & Juliet

**A/N: Here we go againnn. How exciting (: Hope this chapter isn't too bad—I don't have much muse right now, but I wanted to get it done. I've loved writing this story, but man has it been difficult. I keep confusing the timing—for a long time I completely forgot about Desmond's visions, which was really important to the plot haha. And I forgot about the injection medicine that Claire was experimenting with. So I will be a little happy when this is over. It's been what, two years? Yeah, I would say about two years.**

**Sorry about that! I promise my future stories won't be such epic fails (; So enjoy ! Please review, it will make me write faster. Sorry if it seems rushed, I didn't want this one to get too mega long. THQNKS SO MUCH FOR THE REVIEWS, YOU ALL ! I love you guys !  
**

**Rating: I would strongly rate this chapter T, for slight adult situations. This is, however, just to be safe (: The content is not strong at all.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Lost or any of its characters. Suck it.**

**

* * *

**

Time to Let Go:

They stayed like that for the rest of the day. Just lying in 'bed', holding each other. They'd come very close to losing each other, forever. Charlie never wanted to face such a risk ever again.

"I'm sorry, love," Claire said. "If it wasn't for me we would never have gotten into that mess."

Charlie stroked her hair as she looked up at him from where her head had been resting comfortably on his shoulder, to let her know that it was all right. Her eyelashes tickled his neck with the action, and he couldn't help pondering how beautiful she was. He didn't think he would ever get used to it. The love he felt for her in his heart was so immense that when not in her presence it felt like it was no longer even beating. That was a lot of love.

"I don't blame you," he said, although this wasn't necessarily true. Claire had been foolish, much as he hated the way those words sounded, even if he thought them only to himself. She _ was _to blame. But he wasn't dwelling on it. Everyone made mistakes.

God, he'd just told her another lie, right there! What was he turning into? What was he, all ready? Something from under a rock, that was for sure. Charlie cringed, feeling shame but not willing to admit that he had lied, because Claire wouldn't be able to handle knowing she was in love with a liar.

And Charlie wouldn't be able to handle being without Claire.

She mistook it for withdrawal pains (which were also very present). "Oh, I'm so sorry for what you're going through," she crooned, stroking his stubbly cheek with the back of her hand.

Charlie just forced a smile past the self-loathing and stomach sickness he was feeling. "Thanks."

Like that, the rest of the day passed quickly. Every now and then others from around camp popped in to make sure they were all right—tell the two how glad they were that they were okay. Each visit was received with gratefulness, reassurance, and smiles. However glad they were that people cared whether both of them lived or not, however, all Claire and Charlie reallywanted was to be alone.

Evening came quickly and they got their wish. Then night fell. "I've got to take one of these pills," Charlie told her. His leg was twitching and sweat was beaded at his brow. "Ugh, I feel so miserable. I don't think I can survive this, Claire."

Claire knew what he meant. She remembered the last time she had been beginning to go through what he was right now. She'd thrown up, gasping, stomach churning unpleasantly. More than that; painfully. Effect of lack of use wasn't taking it's toll on her quite _yet_, but she was upset to find herself thinking of and her body keenly craving a hit that she wouldn't be able to have.

At the thought of how she would be feeling tomorrow she became very anxious.

Best way to get away from such nervousness was to close her eyes and try to fall asleep. "You do that, Charlie." He popped the lid and swallowed a pill with water. Turned out he had told Jack that they had begun using but now had none left in the tent earlier, before Claire had even arrived. Jack had therefore explained about the pills he was going to give them, without even a lecture(!), and to take one as needed, before going to get them and return before Claire was there.

"I wish I hadn't gotten you into this," Charlie told her, referring to the addiction they now had in common. Now it was his turn to apologize. "I'm so sorry. Tomorrow you're going to be feeling just as bad as I am—worse, even, maybe, since you've never really gone through this before."

Claire just shrugged, pulling him back down to lay beside her on their sleeping back in the sand, wrapping her arms around his waist and snuggling into him. "I'm not," she said in reply. Strange, but it was true. Never had the blond felt more alive than when high off Heroin. It had helped her get over the loss of Aaron (she didn't know how else she and Charlie would have been able to cope), enlightened her, brought her closer to Charlie.

They now understood each other better than ever. The whole ordeal had been one crazy experience so far, like a bumpy roller coaster ride. Claire couldn't honestly say she regretted having made the decision to get on. Even so, however, all she wanted now was to be able to get off. Or for the journey never to end.

You know. Either one.

Charlie shook his head at her words, even as it caused painful jolts to go off in his head. "You're crazy," he chuckled, the hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. His eyes were closed. Claire smoothed the damp hair off of his forehead.

"About you."

Charlie opened his eyes, lowered himself and french kissed her. "Likewise, darling."

It was the most honest he'd been all day.

* * *

**The next morning...**

Day broke. The sun was shining—although this was nothing new or special for the castaways. It was enjoyed and appreciated, of course, but simultaneously characteristic. Not unexpected.

Charlie didn't want to wake up or leave the tent. He felt like he had a bad case of the flue; sluggish, sore, queasy, irritable.

"Come along," Claire urged. Her state of health wasn't much better. However, she knew that wallowing in their own misery and pain wasn't going to do either of them any good. She offered Charlie one of the pills Jack had left and a few mouthfuls of water. "The key is to keep hydrated," she said.

Charlie just scowled. "I hate water," he said.

Claire laughed, thinking of yesterday. It was easy to find humour in the situation now that they were on dry land. "I know," she answered. It wasn't what Charlie wanted to hear.

"I don't want to go," he whined, when Claire tried to force him. "I'm too dizzy and I lost my favourite hoodie in the ocean," he looked at her pointedly, and Claire felt a surge of guilt. "And _I don't feel good_."

Claire bit her lip so as not to let show how the way he was talking to her upset her. Because of how well Charlie knew her, though, doing so had the opposite effect. Charlie sighed, seeing her expression. "Claire," he reached out and traced her bottom lip with his thumb. Then sighed heavily once again.

"Sorry. I'm rather being a wanker, aren't I?"

Claire couldn't help a smile, and bit his thumb as punishment before Charlie could pull his hand away. "A bit," she acknowledged. Then pulled him up so he was standing next to her. "Now come on. Would I suggest something if it wasn't going to help, hmm?"

Charlie thought for a minute. "Well, there was that whole swimming thing yesterday..."

Claire gasped, feigning outrage, and Charlie gave her a smile and a laugh in return. "Shut up! I said I was sorry about that!"

The Englishman managed a weak grin—only for her benefit. "I know. Let's go, love."

"Oh, _now _you want to go?" Claire crossed her arms smugly.

Charlie rolled his eyes, all ready outside. "Are you coming or not?"

"Charlie! Wait for me!"

Hand in hand, they walked the long of the beach. Past Hurley, who gave them a thumbs up and a grin. Charlie rolled his eyes again, but returned it. Progress was slow; right now, walking, for him, was basically that of the pace of a turtle. However, Claire didn't mind; she was just glad she had managed to get him up and about at all.

They passed Desmond's tent, too, who just happened to be looking out at the time. Seeing him, Charlie glared, but didn't give him the finger as he normally would. The guy _had _saved Claire. Even if he could have pretended her need of saving in the first place. Claire didn't follow Charlie's example, didn't even look Desmond's way, like his presence didn't exist.

Charlie wondered why this was.

"Let's go to our spot, in the jungle. Where we got lost coming back that one night, remember?" Claire smiled fondly at the memory. Like the day before, an event that had been alarming at the time seemed exciting and even funny, now. "Only, this time we won't."

They stepped over the border that separated the jungle from the beach, Claire supporting Charlie's weight. Slung over her shoulder was a knapsack with a two bottles of water, and one of Locke's hunting knives. She and Charlie had made a pact to carry one whenever they went through the jungle, since Walt had almost been mauled by one of the polar bears.

Scary shit.

"Shouldn't we tell someone where we're going?" Charlie asked. Ever the worried one. "What if I faint or something? Then what will you do?" The pill he'd taken was already helping a little bit, but Charlie was still feeling far from well.

"Leave you for the boars, of course," Claire teased. She wasn't feeling so great either, but had the feeling they were going to be all right. They couldn't always depend on other people—even in their current weakened states. "Relax, Charlie. We'll let someone know. Exercise will be good for us."

Two minutes and Claire had jogged, breath wheezing painfully in her chest, to Kate, who was rinsing her clothes by the shore. She let her know, quickly, where they were going and then was off again, only stopping by their tent for a second to grab Jack's pills. Just in case they should prove to be needed. Soon she was once more by Charlie's side.

They made their way to their destination in silence. Claire was happy, more or less. There still was and always would be a piece of her heart missing, an inability to ever be _completely _joyful from the tragedy that had not so long ago occurred. The pain was lessening, even if only slightly, every day—but it was still there, and hard not to notice. She and Charlie, however, were doing there bests.

"I guess this was kind of a good idea," Charlie acknowledged, after a while. With his blood pumping from the walk and muscles stretching, a little serenity filled him. The crisp freshness of the air in the jungle, from it having probably just rained within it, was clearing his head some. So that was to say that he even if he definitely did not feel good, he felt the slightest bit better.

Claire smiled, like she'd won the lottery. "See? Claire knows best. You have to let me take care of you, love."

Charlie sighed, for the third time that morning. "How can you do that, though, Claire, when you can't even take care of yourself?"

Claire frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Charlie dropped it. "Nothing. Let's keep going." Even though he sort of felt like he was going to pass out.

They continued on in companionable silence, the only sounds those of the birds and small jungle animals. Charlie couldn't exactly say that he wasn't enjoying himself. Despite the pain he was going through, it was the first time he had spent real quality time with Claire where neither of them were stoned in a what felt like a very long while. It was refreshing—Charlie still wished he was high, and he imagined Claire did too, but that wasn't an option. So unfortunately it was almost impossible to describe (though not as bad as Aaron's death had been, by far) Charlie had lost the little bottle with the rest of the Heroin he'd saved—stole, more like—in the ocean.

As sad and frustrating as that fact was, he knew that it served him right. They'd have to be happy with what they had, then. Namely, each other.

"We're here," Claire announced without warning, sitting down in the grass in the clearing they'd been in last time. It looked vaguely familiar, what with the lily-pad filled pond a few metres away, and all of the flowers. But it was very hard for Charlie to believe that they had arrived all ready.

"Are we really?" He asked, joining her. "That went by quicker than I thought it would."

Claire smiled. "That's what I thought." She exhaled contently, leaning back to lie looking up at the sun.

Charlie couldn't help being reminded of the way she'd floated on her back staring up at it in the water the day before. Either way, she still looked like an angel. Without any hesitation, Charlie joined her.

"It's peaceful out here," he said, and Claire just nodded. He took her hand, tracing patterns on the underside, and she could feel his fingers shaking.

"You're really not well, are you?" She asked, concern colouring her tone, sitting up. Charlie just grunted as reply.

"Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?" She asked. But then Claire thought of what she could do. She crawled on top of him, murmuring a brief, "sorry," when Charlie gave a little exclamation of pain. "You're going to like this, I swear."

Then she pulled off her shirt.

This instantly captured Charlie's interest. "C-Claire," he stuttered, but she silenced him with her tongue in his mouth. This was, after all, the place they had consummated their love for the first place. Second time was the charm, right? Or was that third?

It could be third, as well. Sounded good to Claire.

"I love you, Charlie." It felt necessary to say. So that, despite the arousal her actions produced, what was going to happen between them again could still be considered pure.

Charlie didn't say anything in response, but Claire understood the reason why. He was going to show her how much he cared, instead of just telling her. Didn't actions speak louder than word? Most of the time, yes. He seemed to suddenly regain a bit of strength for the moment, for he rose into sitting position, too, and soon his hands were on her.

Kisses were exchanged with their mouths open.

"You're so beautiful," Charlie whispered, cupping her face. "What would I do without you?"

He never got to hear the answer to his question, however, because without warning, the man felt the sudden urge to throw up.

"I—I," his face looked greenish and sickly, and Charlie had clapped his hands to his mouth.

"What's wrong?" Claire cried, anguished. "I know you're sick...but are you going to be okay, Charlie?"

He tried for a nod, but was barely successful. Withdrawal really was no joke. Claire stood up as Charlie rushed to the puke into the bushes, holding onto the trunk of a tree to steady himself at the edge of a closely located ravine. Their clearing was much too precious to defile in that way. And he didn't want Claire to see him throwing up.

The ravine, though, it turned out, actually wasn't one. It was a cliff. And Charlie's sweaty, shaking hand wasn't sure it would be able to hold on much longer.

"Charlie!" Claire gasped, when it looked like he might begin to go over. "What are you thinking? Quick, get away from the edge!"

Charlie was still busy emptying the contents of his stomach, though. Each heave sent spasms through his kneeling body, and earth had begun sliding from beneath him down the cliff side. Slowly taking him with it.

Claire ran to help him. "Give me your hand," she ordered, panic sharpening her tone. "Charlie, do it. This isn't funny—what if you went over?"

"It _isn't _funny," Charlie agreed, eyes almost crossed with terror and voice loud with fear. At any other time, Claire would find the expression on his face funny. Not now though. Not when Charlie still wasn't making any move to give her his hand

"What are you waiting for?" In the middle of her sentence, Claire's voice broke. Quickly, she reached out and wrapped her arms around the hand that was still clinging desperately to the tree that was so uncommonly close to the edge, so that even though dirt was still pulling him downward, Charlie wouldn't fall. At least, not right away. This was sort of thing that usually only happened on TV shows!

"Charlie! Grab. My. Fucking. Hand."

"I can't!" Charlie sounded near tears, himself. Scratch that—he was now absolutely bawling. "My hands too sweaty. It'll only make me fall faster, and take you down with me. I'm so sorry, Claire." He sobbed, red faced, waist now over the edge of what he'd assumed was a ravine.

"I didn't want to leave you like this. I never want to leave you, at all. I'm so sorry."

What Claire desperately wanted to know was why he would think it a good idea to throw up over a ravine, in the first place.

"Don't give up!" Claire wasn't crying. She was indescribably angry. "Don't you _dare_ give up, Charlie Pace! If you do, so help me _God_...!"

Charlie was hugging the tree with both of his arms. His legs dangled over the rim of the cliff side helplessly. Claire got down on her knees, still holding onto him with all of her might so that her nails were even digging into him. Now her face was level with his. She gave him a fast kiss on the lips.

"Don't give up, Charlie." Her tone was softer now, pleading. "I'm not that strong, but we can do it. Swing your legs over. Try!"

She released him for a moment, hating and afraid of the great chance she was taking in doing so, to fasten her arms around his middle. "Come on," she said. "Swing your legs over, then I'll do my best to pull you up. You're going to be all right, Charlie. You're an idiot, but I'm not going to let you fall, okay?"

Charlie scowled, attempting to do as she said. "That's reassuring!" But it was just to no effect. The Englishman didn't have the strength, and Claire was just wearing herself out trying to help him.

"Come on, Charlie, you're not trying hard enough. This is your life that's at stake!"

"I can't effing do it, Claire!" He lowered his head a fraction of an inch to catch her gaze. "You have to let me go. You've got to be strong without me, yeah? Don't risk your life for me. I've never even been good for you."

Claire shook her head, glaring, tears once again beginning to fall. This wasn't exactly unusual. "Don't be a prat, Charlie! I can't live without you. I'd rather throw _myself_ over this cliff than let you go. And that's exactly what I'll do if you slip away from me."

"You're so damn stubborn, Claire! God, can't you see I'm a lost cause?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, but just shut up! I love you! I'm never going to let you fall."

So for the next five minutes they stayed like that; holding each other, taking turns yelling, and wishing with all their hearts that they might be able to get out of this mess—and that was how they would remain, until the last of their strength faded away and Charlie fell to a horrible death, or somehow they were saved.

Stuck.

* * *

**A/N: Tharr! Hope you liked. I enjoyed writing it. Please review and tell me what you thought.**

**xox Sacha**


	42. Chapter 42 Surprise!

**A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews ! They really make my day =) And sorry to those I frightened with the last chapter, ha ha. I had to do it. Desmond wouldn't be able to see the future ****for **_**nothing, **_**would he? Exactly. Well, anyway—hope you enjoy this. I'd say there will be at least three more (long) chapters, if not slightly more. It **_**is **_**sad that this fic is coming to an end :S But at the same time, like I said in the previous author's not****e, I'm a little relieved. Don't worry, this definitely won't be the last story about this (my favourite) couple that I write, promise !**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Lost or any of its characters.**

**READ: And just in case anyone is confused (I'm even a little confused about it...) and I didn't mention it before, this whole story is set in season 3; after the Hatch's implosion and after Jack and Kate and Sawyer have already returned from the Others' (Juliet's kicking around, but I didn't really include that, because this story isn't about her, is it? =]), after Eko's death but before the arrival of Naomi the parachutist, etc. I don't know if any of this is in the right order (I don't have internet so I don't know what I mentioned in past chapters, which is why it's hard to set things straight, and I haven't watched past episodes of Lost in a while, ahah), but let's assume that it is. Also, all Desmond/Charlie events in the series will not have happened/happen in this story, as well as Charlie throwing the Virgin Mary statues in the ocean—even though he didn't keep them. Let's say he put them back at Eko's brother's airplane in season 2.**

**He WAS taken to the airplane where he first found them and the drama between him, Claire, and Aaron DID happen, but Claire forgave him quickly. And Locke is just off being a crazy buffoon with Ben and such company.**

**Got it? I hope so. Sorry about my control freakness, everybody ! Hope I haven't confused you further. Oh, and I sped things up—normally lots of the shit that happened in the episodes would have already happened during the 41 days since Aaron's death—but it hasn't! That's what I decided : )**

**On with the story!**

* * *

Time to Let Go:

Sayid didn't have much to occupy his time, lately. Shannon was gone (_gone, _never to be seen again), and fortunately Jack, Sawyer, and Kate had long since returned safely from the Others'. That was one less thing to worry about. Not that there was much to, strangely, however. Things were relatively calm on the island—the biggest thing to have happened in the last month and a half was yet another person of their thirty something group of castaways having been murdered by that peculiar and threatening 'smoke monster', and the death of little Aaron. This last mishap especially had left them all sorrowful, and two members of the island in particular, devastated ad shaken.

Charlie and Claire, though, seemed to be recuperating nicely. As well as you _could _get over the death of a loved one—especially one of but barely a child. Sayid would know, after all. He knew loss much too familiarly.

So, because of the lack of happening among the campers, he was for the most part left alone with his grief.

At least Charlie and Claire were there for each other to help one another make it through the pain. With the help of Heroin, too, the Iraqi had heard. Which he found ironic—funny that the aeroplane of Heroin smugglers would crash on an island that a Heroin addict, or formerly Heroin addicted, would soon after arrive. Fate was mocking in that way. Sayid himself had no one but him, and sometimes Kate, to depend on.

He couldn't say he was bitter or jealous of their escape, though. Sayid had always had a fondness for the two. Charlie, who was a lively spirit and only ever wanted to help everybody, even though he could be a bit of a bother sometimes, and Claire; so sweet and formerly innocent. They hadn't deserved to have their son's presence ripped away from them. It concerned him that they had turned to using such a hardcore drug in their time of need, if the rumours were correct—even if, according to Jack, they were going to go through withdrawal soon, now.

Poor things.

However, Sayid didn't think about it all that often, to be honest. He had other things to ponder on and occupy himself with, even if lately he scarcely could find many contributory things to do. At the moment he was just sitting in his tent, going over the information yet again that he'd taken out of what Jack, Sawyer, and Kate had told him of the Others. Their whereabouts, their ways, the fashion in which they treated their people, especially those that had made mistakes. They couldn't all be too bad—Juliet was beginning to prove herself useful, despite being avoided like the plague—but Sayid would never be able to forgive them for what they had taken away from him and the rest of the former passengers of Flight 815.

For being the cause of the taking of Shannon's life.

He stopped his questionings about them to think on how he wished he still had that picture of Nadia he'd forgotten at Rousseau's old hideout every now and again, too. It was as Sayid was doing this that something, or rather _someone_, drew his attention.

Desmond was heading in the direction through the jungle in which Claire and Charlie had just departed. Claire's voice had rung out loud and clear earlier, intentionally or unintentionally letting everyone know where they were going, Charlie's own being much weaker and more quiet. The Scotsman following in their footsteps, oddly, made Sayid raise his head and take notice. Despite him having saved Claire from drowning yesterday, the Iraqi didn't trust him.

Sayid had not forgotten the fight that had broken out between Desmond and Charlie, just a week or so ago.

Sure, there would be no reason to go out of one's way to harm Claire, but Desmond could have every inclination, should he wish to, to put the hurt on her beau. The Brit had beat him the hell up, after all. Sayid didn't know what had happened between them to so fully unleash Charlie's anger, what their argument had consisted of, and didn't think he would soon find out. What he did know, though, was that even hooked on Heroin, Charlie didn't just go off on people unprovoked. There had to have been a good reason for him to have confronted Desmond so completely enraged.

That Desmond had 'betrayed' them, if Sayid remembered correctly, was what Charlie had been yelling as he and Jack had drug him away. That the Scotsman was psychic and could have prevented the death of someone, was a son of a bitch, or something of the sort. No doubt nonsense—Charlie was a junkie, after all, and Claire had surely become one, too. But all the same, despite the odds of any of the contents of Charlie's shouts having any validity, Sayid couldn't help but wonder...

There was something strange about Desmond, that was for sure. Strange that he left for the jungle by the same route Claire and Charlie had gone without telling anyone (it was always wise to let others know where you were headed when adventuring through the jungle, the islanders had all learned the hard way) or being invited by the other two. Perhaps it was a good time for Sayid to finally get up from where he was down and put himself to some use by investigating this curious chain of things, events.

Yes, he decided after a moment, sticking the 9 mm Jack let those he most trusted among them keep with its safety on in his back pocket. It was. Then he quickly was off after Desmond, in the stealthy way soldiers were trained to be.

* * *

**With Charlie and Claire...**

Hopelessness had been much too present since Charlie and Claire had crashed on the island and especially since Aaron's death. The two of them had been almost certain that the power of the feeling wouldn't ever, should they be forced to endure it again, be able to compare to the amount of it that had been present within them at the time those unfortunate and accidental incidents had occurred. But here they were again, only to have been surprised.

They'd escaped their fate of drowning the day before—right now, however, it didn't seem that they would be able to be so lucky twice.

"So."

Claire's arms were wound around Charlie's midsection so tightly that they were shaking from the effort of it. She sighed despairingly, drained and simultaneously annoyed at her man's casualness. Rolling her eyes.

"So _what_, Charlie? We're facing certain death and you want to make _small _talk?"

Charlie's lip quivered, but he seemed to be trying to put on a brave face, because he forced a smile. "Look on the bright side. With all the swimming and weight you've had to carry, by the end of the week, your biceps will be huge!"

His words had the opposite effect than that that he had hoped for, though. Instead of granting him with the enchanting laugh he so loved, Claire's face just crumpled and she simply silently started to cry.

"Claire Claire Claire!" Charlie's brow furrowed tensely at the mistake of her character that he'd made. "Oh, baby please; don't cry." He moved his hand, the one that wasn't death gripping the tree that he'd just managed to catch hold of before slipping a few feet down the cliff, the only body part he _could _move besides his still dangling legs and neck, to stroke her hair and then her cheek. Attempting to reassure her.

"I'm just an idiot, like you said earlier. Remember? I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, baby. Please don't cry."

"You want me t-to let you go and w-watch you fall to your d-death and you don't even care how m-much that would s-scar me and I love you and I don't want to let you go-I already almost lost you o-once this week, Charlie you j-jerk. I can't go through that againnn!"

Claire no longer was very comprehensible as she started to howl. Charlie had only just caught the gist of what she was saying, and that which he _did_ understand he had no idea how to respond to. All the Englishman could do was more or less continue crooning the same reassurances he'd been spouting before.

"Oh Claire, lovey, it'll be all right. I was just joking, sweet. I know you won't let me fall. Don't cry—we'll get out of this all right, somehow. I'm not very funny, am I?"

It was a good thing Claire was the one supporting the majority of his weight. Charlie felt like he was losing more and more strength by the second, and the bile he had just spewed transformed his voice into a croak, it was so raw. He himself didn't really believe what he was saying—neither was he as frightened of dying as he had been just minutes before, though it saddened him that he would be leaving Claire. But it was better that he did his best pretending, made his love believe that he did. Most likely, she would follow his footsteps, otherwise.

Sort of like, he realized suddenly, a Shakespearean play he'd been supposed to but failed to study in high school. Except that in this case, Claire would be Romeo and he'd be Juliet.

"No!" Claire buried her face in his shoulder, tears leaving wet marks on the fabric of his shirt. "Y-you're absolutely not."

"Sorry." What else was he supposed to say? "Sorry, Claire."

The situation they (well, Charlie) had gotten themselves in was awful, there was no doubt about that. But even so and with the threat of losing Charlie once again looming all around, the way Claire was feeling was overly emotional. "I might as well just kill myself right now," she wailed, sobbing and sniffling. "It-it would be better than having to go through losing y-you." It may not be nice to hear, but at the moment such an act seemed logical to Claire.

Charlie raised her chin to look her in the eyes. "You need a fix, don't you?" He asked, lowering it to rub her back in small circles, talking to her as if she were his child. "This is all too much for you, and you just really need one, isn't that right Claire?" She nodded, and guilt flared up in him. "Oh, Claire. I'm so sorry, Claire."

He'd thought it many times before, but still; Charlie never _ever _again wanted to see her shed another tear.

**With Desmond...**

Desmond grit his teeth as he popped up at the scene. Charlie was hanging only a few meters from jagged rocks that would kill him if he fell, and Claire was bawling like a little kid. Good thing he had thought to follow them, that was for sure. Otherwise even _more _guilt would be laid on his conscience, and that would be no good. Not to mention, Claire would not ever forgive or forget.

"Wha's the point of havin' the the advice of a guy with visions if ye don' listen to a thing he facking says?"

Mid hiccough, Claire looked up at him, eyelashes wet. Desmond couldn't help noticing that she wasn't wearing a shirt, was in only her bra (a pinstriped white and pale pink one), even if it was just a passing observation. He was more occupied with the sight of Charlie, one hand wound in his girlfriend's lustrous hair and the other grasped around the trunk of close by tree, tightly—which had surely been the saving of his life, Desmond imagined. Claire was stooped over on her knees, her back to him, with her arms bearing Charlie from under the armpits, he could see. All but holding him, having obviously made sure he hadn't immediately fallen.

Their faces had been close together before Desmond had interrupted. Only Charlie's upper half could be seen; the rest of him was hanging past the edge of the cliff. Despite the better and good his appearance would cause in providing muscle to help save Charlie, Desmond couldn't help feeling his cheeks flame. Claire was half naked, and weeping had made her indescribable eyes an even brighter blue. There was no doubt of what the two had been doing in Desmond's mind before this accident and he had shown up.

He was feeling a little jealous, and things were overall awkward, naturally, but moved to the pairs aid, as was his responsibility, nonetheless.

"Desmond!" Charlie had never sounded so happy to see him before. "_Incredibly _nice of you to make an appearance, old pal. Fancy getting us out of here?" Though the words were jovial, an undeniable undertone of cynicism was still there. Despite his relief that Desmond had appeared, obviously Charlie didn't want to give the man the satisfaction at knowing how grateful he was that he had arrived.

Desmond ground his teeth together again. He felt badly for Charlie, and wanted to make it up to him for having betrayed his and the Aussie's trust, but he was still Claire's boyfriend, and not making life any easier, either. "Why else d'ye think I'd be here, mate?"

"Oh, I dunno. What I _do, _though, is that you have a fondness for snogging my girl, yeah?" Charlie was trying to sound light and joking, despite his uncomfortable circumstances, but not succeeding. "Maybe that has something to do with your good timing?"

Desmond scowled, and grabbed the arm Charlie was clinging to the tree with roughly. "Let go, Claire." Claire stopped whimpering long enough to gradually and distrustfully let Charlie's life lay in his hands. She backed up a little, so she was more on solid ground, but lingered so that she could reach out and grasp Charlie again should she need to. Not taking any chances.

Desmond reached and took hold of Charlie's other arm, too, repeating then the same sentence he had to Claire but replacing the use of her name with his. Then he began to pull.

"That fucking hurts!" Charlie cried, and this sent Claire into a fresh fit. Crying from fright, crying from happiness, and last but not least, relief. Just emptying her soul of all the reason for tears she felt inside. Just as Desmond was about to retort to Charlie's complaining, an unexpected someone popped up.

"What's going on?" Sayid demanded, hand in his back pocket for some unknown reason. Charlie was still clutching Desmond in a death grip and half on solid ground, half not. All three of them turned at the sound of his thick accent, thoroughly surprised. Sayid was the last person any of them had expected to see.

"Hey, buddy!" Charlie greeted, over enthusiastic, like the scene playing out was one of no big deal. Sayid simply raised his eyebrows, and then came forward to help Desmond in Charlie's rescue. As he did so, Claire busied herself with wiping her tears.

"How'd ye know to come here?" Desmond asked.

Sayid paused before answering; grunting with the effort of hauling Charlie's weight, but satisfied when the younger man had been safely deposited on his feet. Unfortunately though, he didn't stay that way for long. Claire rushed forward as Charlie sank to his knees and then lay flat out on the ground on his stomach, obviously exhausted, and ill, beyond belief.

Sayid gave Charlie a concerned glance, but didn't go to him right away. "Well, I am not a 'guy with visions', if that is what you are asking, Desmond." Quoting the Scotsman's earlier words.

At this, the bloke blushed bright red. "I don't—I don' know what ye're talking about, brother."

Sayid just shook his head, although the crease of his mouth made it look that he was close to laughing, before going to help Charlie stand once again. "Never mind, Desmond. You and I will talk later."

Charlie gave a bitter chuckle, relieved to no longer be in peril but angry that these sorts of things only ever really happened to them. Then he glanced at Claire. "Put your shirt on," he said feebly. Claire rolled her eyes, but she was smiling shakily, and complied.

Then she noticed something. "S-Sayid, is that a gun?" Her voice was unbelieving.

Sayid didn't even flinch, but nodded allowably. "Yes."

"Wh-what-"

Claire didn't get to finish her sentence, because he was too keen on quickly replying.

"You and I can also speak later, all right, Claire? At the moment just be glad you and Charlie are safe."

Even in his collapsible state, Charlie registered the look of shock on Desmond's face at hearing the news of what the possession was that Sayid had brought with him. He couldn't help a smug smile, before he keeled over and threw up again. Claire sighed, lips trembling, feeling all too dizzy. It was her turn to rub his back soothingly, now. Then Charlie tremblingly got up.

"Ye alright?" Desmond asked, following behind them as they began beginning making their way through the jungle. As if he really cared.

"Whatever," was all Charlie said. Claire didn't even bother looking back.

With these words, they turned to follow the way they all had come, back in the direction of camp. Sayid and Claire supporting a downtrodden Charlie on either side.

* * *

**A/N: Voila! Like? Hope so ! Please let me know in a review. You guys know how I appreciate 'em (; I will try to update soon!**

**xox Sacha**


End file.
